The Adventures of Cadge: The Genie
by Kurieo Parnok
Summary: In this long-awaited sequeal, Zoe and Ms. Wild are kidnapped by a mysterious group led by someone called the Genie. The team must rally together and recruit some unexpected friends in order to rescue them. But who is the Genie, and what does he want?
1. Introduction

**Summary:**** The requested sequel to a previous Knight Rider story, in this one, Zoe and Wild are kidnapped by a mysterious party led by someone called the Genie and it's up to Cadge and the rest of FLAG, as well as some unexpected new companions, to rescue them. Who is the Genie? What does he want? Who is Nevada? Read and find out!**

**Rated:**** Mature for language, crude humor, and drug references.**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Knight Rider or any attached blessings to it. Neither do I own any additionally mentioned culture references, locations, songs, et cetera. Make sure to leave a review!**

**Chapter 1: Introduction/ Prologue**

Michael Traceur had been a hansom wild boy in his youth, even when he went to fight the War in Iraq, where he quickly became well known as the man who could get it done. Whether it was invading a terrorist's shelter or crossing a mine-filled field, Michael became a sort of legend in the battlefield. But even legends get tired of war, and Michael had been sitting in a café in Iran, trying to find comfort in his memories of a peaceful life in America when his life had changed do to the introduction of one man in black.

The man in black's name had been Alex Torres, a government operative who invited Michael to work in a secret project with a company called Knight Industries. The project; Michael was to be the driver of the Knight Auto-Cybernetic Roving Robot, Karr, for short… and Karr was a sentient car.

Michael had been extremely reluctant at first to enter into a project that was, to him, an over-the-top science-fiction adventure. But he had been forced to work with the moody sentient machine or go to prison for treason. At first, it had been hard to work with Karr the sentient silver Mustang, as the two were always bashing heads as to who was the superior. But they became good friends; coming out victorious in every single mission that they were given. In the time Karr and Michael had become friends, Michael had come to feel invincible. Things went south, though, when Karr upgraded himself into a cyborg that was too powerful for Knight Industries' liking.

When they had attempted to make Karr de-grade himself, he had fought back and killed seven people. After a hard battle, Karr was taken off line and Michael was given a serum to forget months of work with Karr and sent home on military discharge. When Michael had next awoken after having his memory erased, his plane back was already landing in California. For months afterwards, when ever he looked at the enormous hole between some undetermined point in Iraq to waking up on the plane, he would always shy away from it, not wishing to know what he had done in that large hole. He just assumed that his mind had repressed some memories for his own protection and left it at that.

For the next few months he had lived off of the discharge cash the military had given him, gambling, partying and womanizing at night and sleeping off hangovers in the day. He had nothing to regret, but always he would feel a strange emptiness in himself. It looked like he would live the rest of his what-looked-like short life as a disgraced soldier enjoying what time he had left… until Sarah Graiman reappeared in his life.

Sarah Graiman, daughter of Dr. Graiman, was the genius and beautiful childhood sweetheart of Michael's that he had even made his fiancé until his mysterious disappearance and memory relapse. One night, it appeared that Dr. Graiman had been murdered and the same people who had killed him almost came after Sarah. Enter from stage right the Knight Industries Two Thousand: Kitt, a newer, peaceful version of Karr, although no one had known at the time.

Long story short, Michael rescued Sarah, Dr. Graiman had hoaxed his own death, and Michael became Kitt's driver for Knight Industries once more, this time working in America until Dr. Graiman truly died in a plane crash. Upon the death of Dr. Graiman, Alex Torres, who had been working with in the American Knight Industries base as well, dissolved Knight Industries, fired Michael and all his co-workers, and took Kitt's computer mind in an attempt to resurrect and fix Karr.

It had failed miserably.

Karr had been insane when he had come back on line, killing Alex Torres before Michael, by downloading Kitt's mind files off numerous places on the internet, had resurrected Kitt and together, Kitt and Michael had put Karr down. During that adventure, Sarah had been off mourning her father's death and had discovered that he had left her _millions_ of dollars in the wake of his death. Using this money, Sarah had stared the Federation of Law and Government: FLAG. Working in FLAG other than her, Michael, and Kitt were their good friends who were polar opposites of each other: Zoe and Billy. Zoe was an attractive woman of Asian decent, playful, and always teasing Billy, a young man that one may call a "nerd" and often the butt of the group's jokes whenever he made an attempt at looking stronger than what he was.

Hence it went like that for a while: Sarah would hook in the assignments and Michael and Kitt would stop whatever terrorist or high-class criminal was at work in the US at the moment with Zoe and Billy guiding them. More often than not, something would explode by the end of the assignment and Michael would come home, bruised and beaten up, but with the criminal caught, even for at least a few months, until they would bribe their way out again. So, with the lack of effectiveness on taking out the criminals, on top of the government keeping a close eye on FLAG, do to its controversial beginnings, it was a hard life, but the only one because, let's face it, once you call a sentient talking car your friend, there's no way in the world that you're just going to become a standard office worker.

Now, to disrupt this accustomed pattern of life, enter from stage left Cadge, the Cyber Android of Demolitions Game Expert created by Masquerade Incorporated.

One day, Masquerade attempted to show Cadge off at a festival called the Technology Shamroo, when Cadge decided that he had had enough of the cold experiment life and ran away. Rebecca Wild, his human caretaker and mother figure, was soon fired even as Cadge had met up with Billy during a standard supplies pick up. Billy wound up taking Cadge home, where the members of FLAG discovered that Cadge had the ability to switch between different foreign sport car modes for showing off, with each mode having a slightly different personality than the others. Cadge was also a super mimic; an ability that came from his scanning program that allowed him to analyze other cars' moves and copy them. Billy fought for Cadge and since Cadge refused to return to his owners, he had become a member of FLAG.

Sarah, though, had been jealous that another company had made a sentient car without being associated with the Graiman family and had made plans with Kitt to return Cadge to his proper home. Cadge found out about this during a social gathering at the home of Benjamin Spencer, new employer of Rebecca Wild. Cadge became upset and ran off, only to run into Karr, who had been revived by one unlucky mechanic that had accidentally installed his CPU drive into a computer. Karr had manipulated Cadge's desires for fellow sentient machines and wound up activating his highly hostile, weapon-carrying Ferrari FXX form that insisted on being called Nasam as well as recruiting Cadge/Nasam into a plot to have machines take over the world via sentience-broadcasting viruses.

Nasam helped Karr kidnap Michael and Michael almost re-joined Karr, do to a hit on the head giving back all his memories of Karr. Spencer and Rebecca, meanwhile, went to face Masquerade Inc directly and demand where the Nasam side of Cadge had come from and had discovered Cadge's role as a test subject for a new style of warfare where a machine could go into battle by itself without the risk of endangering human lives. Dr. Gomez, the original developer of Cadge, had rallied together a Masquerade Inc. force to go after and off line Cadge before his hidden on-board weaponry could do real damage.

Long story short: Nasam and Karr managed to broadcast a sort of audio virus that made all machines sentient, turning northern Nevada into pure hell. Nasam was forced to shut down when his incomplete program went on the flux, just like what Kitt and Sarah had predicted, and rebooted himself into a better model of himself with weaponry on all alt-forms. Using these upgrades, Cadge had went into battle against Masquerade Inc and won, then had fought Karr when Michael decided not to join Karr after all and Karr almost killed him by forcibly melding with him. After the machines' mortal combat, with Kitt and Cadge against Karr, Cadge had died defeating Karr, who had escaped; crippled, but not dead.

Even though it looked like Cadge was gone for good, Billy was the one who figured out that Cadge had mimicked Kitt's own death-survival tactic of simply uploading his cyber mind in numerous pieces all around the Internet and hence, had revived Cadge. Realizing that they were wrong about Cadge, Masquerade Inc allowed him to be taken into the care of FLAG, where he has been working ever since.

Now that we are updated: On with the show!

- - - -

It starts in a large, empty warehouse, as always. It's night time in an unspecified location, the warehouse is void of furniture or decoration, and one could just _feel_ the grit on one's skin. A lone figure strides back and forth across the floor with their boots clomping dully on the floor. An engine approaches and the person turns to the doors as headlights turn into the warehouse before their owner enters. A yellow light pulses between the headlights, unsure of which one to stay by. The figure merely stops and turns their head to the lights, their face hidden in the shadows of their wide-brimmed hat.

"Welcome. I can grant you three wishes, for a price," the figure says, an amused smirk obvious in his voice tone.

The lights stop moving then suddenly move into the air with the sound of clanking metal and sliding sheets. The figure merely tilts their head back to look up at the lights, but begins to walk backwards, preparing to turn and all-out sprint for their life. A metal claw-hand reaches from the shadows behind the lights and seizes the figure up around their waist, turning him around so that he may face the pulsing yellow light, now hovering high over the head lights.

"I wish the demise of a vehicle called Kitt. I wish for the demise of an agency called FLAG. And I wish for the possession of a man named Michael Knight. Grant me my wishes…"

The claw squeezes, making the captive cry out and writhe in pain. The golden light glows brighter.

"Or I will stuff you back in your lamp and destroy you."

**Author's Note: Confused yet? Ah, well, all will be revealed, in time.**


	2. Hit and Run

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Knight Rider or any attached blessings to it. Neither do I own any additionally mentioned culture references, locations, songs, et cetera. Make sure to leave a review!**

**Chapter 2: Hit and Run**

Dust swirled in the air as the smuggler ran through the old warehouse, a small trunk tucked under his arm. He slipped and stumbled when he tried looking over his shoulder. He scrambled around on his back end, looking around the empty warehouse, strewn with empty, enormous crates lit by the bright morning sun outside, but saw that he had lost his pursuers. Dust-covered and panting, he snatched up the trunk and stood up, backing up and holding the trunk to his chest like a beloved child as he looked around. He heard the purr of an engine behind him a split second too late.

A peculiar sort of barbed grappling hook launched up into the air with a zipper-like noise and flew over a rafter. It came down to seize the man by the back of his belt and haul him up to the rafters. The man screamed and dropped the chest, twisting in the air as he tried to pull himself from the grappling hook. On the other end of the cable was a Koenigsegg CCR, colored half in a ragged yellow and the other half in a ragged blue, the long diamond shaped head lights and wide bumper gap smirking playfully up at its prisoner. The grappling hook was attached to the car by some device under its front bumper. The heavily tinted windows of the car and the roof that was up at the moment kept the man from seeing who was driving the car.

"Hey, man, hey," the prisoner called down to the car, looking from the dropped trunk to the car and back again. "I-I don't know who you are, but-but there's more than enough dough in this to make cookies for both of us, yeah? S-See, with the other three-three dudes taken out, we two can-can just split the cash, and, ah, run, right? But-but you have to let me down, alright? Alright, so, uh, just put me down again and, uh, we can-can talk it out. S-s-s-s-so w-what do you say, p-put me down, right?"

No reaction came from the driver or the car for a moment. The man went back to struggling with the cable, and he never noticed when the bulbs of the headlights turned down to stare at the trunk. The man looked up, yipping in terror as a deeper, throatier engine growl entered the warehouse. A white and black police approached the couple, the red light in its grille pulsating calmly as the red and blue lights on the wrack on its roof glittered in time. The hanging criminal wailed in dismay as the driver's door opened and a man got out.

The man was dressed in a dark blue police uniform currently torn and bloodied from recent fighting, but the face was recognizable: Thick and topped with slightly spiked hair and squinted eyes, the man looked like he could never make a facial expression to save his life. In spite of the facial expressionless handicap, though, he _was_ a rather hansom fellow in a boyish, rough-around-the edges sort of way.

"So, Chester," the officer said, going over to kneel by the trunk. "What does the Chinese mafia have you running that requires a $300,000 pay check to be split between you and your other three pals back there in the parking lot?"

"N-Nothing, man, I don't know nothing!" Chester objected.

"It's I don't know _anything_," the "officer" corrected, drawing a tool from his belt and unlocking the trunk. "So what is it; computers, guns, drugs?"

In side, he saw a tray of sixteen vials of strange clear red liquid.

"Or lab-made super boosts built for the military that turned out to be hideously flawed and the project was canceled, but now people want it," the officer sighed in annoyance. He slammed the trunk shut. "Last time I dealt with this, my ribs were turned into mashed potatoes and handed to me on a silver platter lined with my own teeth."

He stood up, trunk tucked under his arm as he looked up at Chester.

"Well, Chester, I'll just take this to the nearest proper authorities while someone locks you up and gets you some help for your addiction to the white powder from hell, 'kay?" He turned away and went over to the police car. "Let him down, Cadge."

"W-Wait!" The man yelled.

The grappling hook dropped the man, but another jumped up from under the CCR's bumper and snatched him out of the air, saving him from a bone-crunching fall and dropping him down at the cop's side.

"What?" the cop sighed, turning back to Chester.

"T-Try some, just try some," the man said, grinning manically. "It's-it's-it's _great_, like-like y-you're _flying_!"

"You _really_ need rehab," the cop said, shaking his head in pity. Then he got into his car.

The cable holding Chester wrapped around his middle as the back door of the CCR opened up. The other cable whacked him on the head, knocking him out, and slithered back into its place with in the car as it tossed the drug addict in its back seat. Thus making sure the criminal and his merchandise were secure, the police car turned around and drove out of the warehouse.

"Cadge," a new, slightly drab, masculine voice suddenly said, "You should return to your Porsche form. The real cops will be suspicious of such an expensive exotic car roaming their streets."

"Do I have to go silver?" a different, younger-sounding, more animated male voice asked from the CCR as its bumper corners turned down.

"Yes; the blue and yellow paint job is too flashy."

"Darn it," the CCR, Cadge, sighed. "Oh, fine, Kitt."

The CCR stopped and parked. A metal bark sounded in its engine and a transformation took place on it. Sharp corners fattened and rounded out, the shark-like nostrils in the front area closed up, the diamond head lights became round ovals, and the entire thing became slightly taller, shorter in length, and rounded out. The blue and yellow paint job faded out and gained a stronger sheen, becoming a silver car. The CCR had become a silver Porsche Carrera GT.

"Man, I hate being silver; it's so _dull_!" Cadge whined.

"It keeps people from looking twice," the man sighed, taking his police cap off and rubbing a hand through his hair.

"Michael is right, Cadge; we can not afford to be too flashy or we might attract unwanted attention," Kitt agreed.

"Unwanted attention? Flashy? _You're_ the one lit up like a Christmas tree!" Cadge exclaimed. "And what about the way you broke in on that exchange? You came skidding into that parking lot like the _Fast and Furious_ and made a _hockey stop_, of all things! Honestly, how amateur can you be!? That's _my_ gig!"

"It was the only way I could stop without harming any one," Kitt replied. "And as for being lit up like a Christmas tree…" His lights flashed and his siren blipped. "I'm in _police cruiser_ form. I'm _supposed_ to be flashy so that troubled people will see me and be discouraged from doing illegal activities."

"You just like the lights, don't you?" Cadge asked, his engine rumbling low in a "you gotta be kidding me" sort of way.

"Yes," Kitt replied. "Now hush; we are returning to the crime scene."

Across the street from the warehouse were the remains of a closed down garage. Weeds were growing all over through the cracks in the pavement and currently, three other men were being questioned and arrested by the three other police cars of cops that had appeared there. Kitt, and Cadge parked themselves in the parking lot and Michael got out. Michael set the green trunk on top of his police cruiser and went over to Cadge, pulling the unconscious Chester from the back and handed the thug to the first officer that approached him.

"Nice work, Michael," the second office that approached him said. "I had to admit, I thought everyone was exaggerating about your skills, but you are defiantly good."

"Thanks, Chief Wagner, say that to my bruises," Michael replied, fingering a loose tooth. "I have _got_ to work on my dodging skills more before dentists make a discount in my name."

The brawny police officer laughed and smacked Michael on the chest, then gestured to the trunk on Michael's police cruiser's roof.

"So, what're they hauling?"

"Some red stuff," Michael replied, opening the chest to show Wagner. "Looks like lab stuff gone wrong. Have there been any rumors of biological boosts being developed anywhere near here?"

"No, not at all," Wagner said, picking up a vial and holding it to the sun, looking it over. "This town's a ghetto, not a science city. Everyone's too busy saving for child support, this week's groceries, or the next box of ammo, not taxing it out for science."

The Porsche's headlights narrowed momentarily, as if stung, but no one except Kitt noticed. Kitt's rear lights lit up, showing that he was looking at the Porsche. The Porsche carefully flashed back a message; he was okay; just sad for the broken neighborhood. Kitt blinked his rear lights to show that he agreed. One rookie cop looked over and stared at the light flashing display with a confused scowl on his face, but dared say nothing.

"Well, just the same, we better get this stuff to the nearest smart asses and have them see what the hell this stuff is," Michael replied.

"So you can get back to having your ass kicked?"

"You know it."


	3. Theme Song

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Knight Rider or any attached blessings to it. Neither do I own any additionally mentioned culture references, locations, songs, et cetera. Make sure to leave a review!**

**Chapter 3: Theme Song**

"Dum daddy-dum dum, dum daddy-dum dum, ber-wow-wow, ber-wow-wow, hey! Da da DA DA da da DA DA daaaa!"

"Cadge, _what_ are you doing?" Michael asked.

"I was curious and went browsing the internet for anything that matched 'knight rider' and I found this really cool song," Cadge answered. "See, it's the beginning of this really old science-fiction action TV show about this soldier and his super advanced car—"

"Cadge don't you ever stop browsing the internet?" Karr asked. "It's going to rot your CPU with all its crap."

The team was heading back to their underground base in a hangar in the middle of the desert, still in their silver Porsche and police form disguises. Michael was letting Karr drive as he cleaned himself up a bit with a First Aid kit. The power-up vials had been confiscated by the FBI, much to Michael's relief. Thank god for FBI push-over agents, he had thought. Let some one else get their teeth knocked out and run from an exploding building.

"Never," Cadge answered shamelessly. "So any way, I was listening to this song just now, the one I was singing and is from a really old car adventure show? It doesn't have words, though it sounds like it should, and I just had an idea…"

"Here it comes…" Michael muttered, applying a band aide to his cheek.

"We should have it as our theme song!" Cadge whooped. "Our audio signature that the bad guys are gonna _die_!!!"

"For the love of god, FINE!!" Michael shouted, "You can go into Nissan mode, you can go into Ferrari mode! Hell, you can go into Easter-Bunny-on-crack-and-a-one-horse-open-sleigh-to-grandma's-house-mode, just stop singing and talking!"

"Woo hoo!" Cadge cheered.

The same electronic bark sounded out as before and Cadge transformed again. He rose a little more off the ground as he shrunk in length and a spoiler sprouted from the trunk area; the car world's version of a peacock tail. The front hood opened up a vent on it as the tire rims unfolded and begun to spin, becoming spinners that would make the coolest passer by stare and nod in approval. As a final touch, blue neon lights glowed to life beneath the shifting car and a ragged blue and yellow paintjob split the car in half, thus completing the transformation into an excitable Acura NSX. In this mode, Cadge was like an unbroken yearling stallion, being more prone to doing stupid road stunts, but was also a little more fearful for his life and running away when a stronger second party was introduced.

"See you at home, Kitt!" Cadge whooped, speeding on ahead.

"Oh, come on, Kitt, you're just going to lie down and take that from the punk?" Michael teased his car partner.

"Of course not, Michael," Kitt stated in a matter-of-fact tone, "I am merely calculating what would be the best way to out show Cadge—"

"Drive!!!" Michael shouted, taking the wheel and slamming his foot on the gas.

"Fine," Kitt said in a mock tone of annoyance, "_You_ can drive…"

A black screen fell over the windshield, making it impossible to see out of.

"In the dark," Kitt finished with a mischievous accent.

"Oh, come on," Michael chuckled, shifting into higher gear. "Are you really going to let me crash you?"

The police car sped up, its engine purring louder as it began to work.

"Come on, Kitt!" Cadge called through their communication radios, "You gotta do better than that if you want to keep up!"

"Let's do this, as they say, 'with style'," Kitt said.

Then Kitt under went a transformation of his own.

It didn't have the same fluidness of Cadge's sequence, but it was no less impressive. Entire metal plates lifted up, shifted around, and disappeared under different plates, breaking apart the police man light wrack and turning the police cruiser into a black Ford Shelby GT5000KR Mustang. The only thing that stayed the same was the calm, heart-beat pulsing red grille on the front of the car.

The Mustang's engine roared to life as the car pounced forward with unexpected speed, turning the pavement below it into nothing more than a treadmill. With in seconds, the Mustang had caught up to the Acura and drew up along side it. Suddenly, the Acura stopped and spun around, loosing some ground, but it caught right up with Kitt and Michael and kept pace with them… driving backwards.

"Show off!" Michael laughed.

"You see my rear bumper, Kitt?" Cadge asked, wiggling his rear bumper end. "You like it, don't you? Kiss it! Kiss it!"

"I'm going to kill you," Kitt warned.

- - - -

The Federation of Law and Government's headquarters was your typical cool lair. It was a large chamber with a second floor cat walk lining the wall and numerous opening leading deeper into the secret base. One side of the hall was dominated by a giant computer station with an enormous screen as the center piece. Opposite of the computer station were a pair of blast doors that would lead to an upward sloping tunnel outfitted with purifying technology and then to a hangar that would go straight to the surface. Right now, a pretty young woman of Asian heritage and a scrawny brown-haired young man were playing a game of digital Rubric's Cube on the screen with two cubes for each of them.

"See, Zoe," Billy, the scrawny man, was bragging to the woman. "There's always a pattern to these things. No matter how messed up they are, they can always be solved a few short—"

Zoe's cube flashed as all the colors lined up perfectly. Billy took his hands off the keyboard where he was controlling the cube and looked over at the smirking Zoe.

_"Really_, Zoe?" Billy asked. "You _really_ had to shoot me down just as I was taking flight?"

"As what, a paper air plane?" Zoe snorted, shutting down the game. "_Please_; my B-2 Stealth jet would _smoke_ your flight to Dream Land."

"Take it easy on him, Zoe," a light brown haired woman said, entering the lair.

"Oh, hey, Sarah," Billy said to the leader and head of FLAG, looking at the screen.

"Zoe, have you been busting Billy's butt worse than usual lately?" Sarah asked, going over to them.

"Oh, come on, Sarah," Zoe pouted. "It's all for fun!"

"I know," Sarah chuckled, "I just don't want you doing it without me to watch."

"Oh, gee, thanks, girls," Billy said with good nature, rolling his eyes as the girls laughed.

At that moment, the bay doors of the lair opened and Michael in Kitt entered, followed by the blue and yellow Acura Cadge. Kitt parked himself on a revolving platform with circle frames lining it and Cadge parked by it. The Acura stood higher on its wheels and actually _shook itself_ like a dog as it melted back into its Porsche form, keeping its flashy blue and yellow ragged paintjob.

"Whew, what a race!" he said. "Nice move around that coyote, Kitt."

"Thank you, Cadge," Kitt replied. "I would have appreciated it if you had reverted to your silver Porsche form when we passed that festival while you were driving backwards, though."

"Aw, the kids loved it and you know it. Hey, Kitt," Cadge said as Michael got out of the Mustang. "I know this color changing mode helps me lay low, but come on, get real, man. _All_ my alt-forms are _way_ too expensive for most people to _sniff,_ so how does simple silver or a, god forbid, _red_, make me any less inconspicuous?"

"Because, Cadge," Kitt replied. "People take strong cues from colors. Red is wild, energetic, and passionate, but is incredibly common on any form of car. Blue is innocent, green is healthy and fertile, and so on. Silver on a car is a clear indication to the machine lineage and—"

"Yeah, yeah, Kitt, you can cease meaningless prattle now," Michael said, tossing the jacket of the police uniform down as Sarah, seeing the cuts and bruises that had not been tended to went for a First Aid kit.

"Hey, Cadge, what's up?" Billy asked, grinning at Cadge.

"Fantastic, thanks, Billy!" Cadge replied. To show his cheerfulness, the Porsche's front grille widened as its corners turned up in a car grin, the head lights widened and glowed happily, and the side mirrors wiggled happily. Zoe laughed at the cute image and Billy chuckled in approval. Cadge's tentacles came out and began to play-box with Billy.

"So, this magic red juice you were talking about earlier," Sarah said. "What was it?"

"Not sure," Michael said, "The FBI took it from me before I could get a good look at it. They took out the three witnesses, too, leaving the druggie for the cops to keep. I don't really care; I need a vacation. But I'm telling you that the next time this happens, I'm giving Billy a gun, and _he_ can do the ass kicking. I'm _way_ to sore for another mission."

"The chances of Billy coming back alive would only be six percent and chances of the mission even succeeding are only twelve percent," Kitt announced. "Meaning that there is a higher chance of him succeeding in the mission if he dies."

"Thanks for the support, guys," Billy pouted.

"What if I were his partner?" Cadge asked.

"Fifty two point three percent success rate for survival _and_ accomplishing the mission," Kitt answered.

"Woo hoo!" Cadge cheered, "Billy and I are gonna kick butt!"

"You know what you remind me of, Cadge?" Zoe asked, "You remind me of the best friend who's too dumb to realize he shouldn't be living with his mom at age 35 because he likes to party all the time."

"Fine with me," Cadge snickered. "Now, who's up for some TTIG?"

"I am!" Billy cheered, jumping away from the tentacles and landing in his computer seat.

"TTIG: Talk trash in game. Are you still doing that?" Michael chuckled as Zoe, Billy, and Cadge all activated a fighting computer game and accessed their characters.

"Yeah, wanna join?" Zoe asked.

"Actually," Sarah said, grabbing Michael and leading him out of the room, "Michael needs more direct medical attention!"

Michael grinned as he followed Sarah out while Zoe and Billy exchanged looks and rolled their eyes.

"Sure, '_medical_ attention'," Billy snickered.

"Huh?" Cadge asked. "Why the sarcasm?"

"Just forget it, Cadge," Zoe snickered, "You'll understand someday, but let's just say that Sarah's going to be playing the role of naughty nurse for _quiet _well."

Cadge was confused.


	4. Family

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Knight Rider or any attached blessings to it. Neither do I own any additionally mentioned culture references, locations, songs, et cetera. Make sure to leave a review!**

**Chapter 4: Family**

Rebecca Wild, as it was explained in the introduction of this tale, was Cadge's mother figure and Benjamin Spencer was her boss and friend. Wild had wavy brown hair and was showing the symptoms of middle age and acted as secretary to Benjamin Spencer. Benjamin was a big-boned man with dark hair and a mustache and beard who designed cars and their commercials and collected them.

They lived at a mansion in the mountains, surrounded by acres of road tracks in the woods and set in the center of a large tiled area where numerous cars were parked proudly. The mansion itself was white-walled with an orange roof with large, tall-ceilinged rooms usually divided by numerous small stair cases as a tiny encouragement for exercise. The kitchen had a large glass door leading out to a small private courtyard, walled by a raised platform in which a pool was set. In this courtyard, an army tank was parked. In the kitchen, Wild was cooking up breakfast for Spencer.

"You know, I'm supposed to be your secretary; not your mother," Wild joked as she set a plate of beacon in front of Spencer.

"Then why do you cook for me?" Spencer chuckled.

"Because if I don't, you'll starve to death, and I need you to keep writing my paychecks."

"That's a good reason," Spencer said in approval before stuffing some beacon into his mouth.

The door bell rang and Rebecca called out, "It's open!"

"Who's that?" Spencer asked.

"I invited Zoe over to help me figure out exactly how Ruby and Equinox got Li'le Terror," Wild replied, "It's quite the conundrum."

Zoe entered the kitchen, dressed in casual jeans, black-white-stripped sandals, and a black-yellow floral print tank top with a backpack slung over her shoulder. At her heels followed a green toy monster truck with yellow flames. The little toy truck constantly kept dodging at her ankles, beeping playfully.

"Hi, Ms. Wild, so what's the big puzzle you have that you need my help with?" Zoe asked.

_"That_ big puzzle," Wild said, pointing to the toy truck. "You know the Nissan and the Viper that saved Spencer's and my lives back in the Nevada incident with Karr?"

"Yeah, and you managed to make them sentient again, right?"

"Right. We called the Viper Ruby and the Nissan, Equinox. We managed to figure out that Ruby is female and Equinox, male, and they love each other. Well, one night, they went out driving, and for the next few days when they came back, Ruby was really slow, almost catatonic. Then, after some weeks, she just opened her trunk and out popped the little truck there, who we've called Li'le Terror."

"Wait," Zoe said, "Are you saying that Equinox and Ruby had a _kid_??"

"That's what made me call you here to figure out," Wild replied. "We don't know if Ruby just picked this little guy up as a hitchhiker, or she got him from somewhere, or what. I figured that you would know what to do, being apart of a vigilante force and all."

"We're not vigilantes; just a crime fighting force with a super car. Well, then, let's see what we can learn," Zoe said, kneeling in front of the toy truck. "Hi there, Li'le Terror,"

The toy truck bounced on its front wheels happily, revving its tiny engine cheerfully. It was definitely intelligent if it recognized its name.

"I'm Zoe, a friend of Ms. Wild's. Tell me, do you have a mommy?"

Li'le Terror bounced on his wheels.

"We figure that to mean yes," Spencer said.

"Can you show me her?" Zoe asked.

Li'le Terror bounced positively and zipped away. Zoe and Wild followed the toy truck, as did a curious Spencer. The truck bounced up some stairs and came to a large courtyard in the back of the house where the main pool and deck set was. Here were parked a handful of sports cars, among them a Dodge Viper SRT10, colored like a woman's bright red lip stick. The Viper was parked strangely close to a dark, gun-grey Nissan GT-R.

"You repainted the Nissan?" Zoe asked, "He looked so gentlemanly in silvery blue."

"Equinox, and the Nissan, insisted," Wild said. "He kept parking facing a Ferrari of the same color until we got the idea. It's weird, how they still don't speak human—hey, will you look at that?"

Li'le Terror had parked right up against the Dodge Viper's front bumper and was currently rubbing up against it, squeaking happily. The Viper turned on with a small purr of its engine and leaned forward on its front wheels, purring like a huge, loving cat as it nuzzled Li'le Terror.

"Li'le Terror," Zoe ventured, "Do you have a daddy?"

Li'le Terror left the Viper, Ruby, and drove over to the Nissan and nuzzled it. The Nissan, Equinox, turned on and hummed happily as it nudged one of its tires at Li'le Terror in a friendly gesture. The watching humans were caught somewhere between surprise, disbelief, and awkwardness. Finally, Spencer broke the silence.

"So," he said. "How do they decide who gets on top?"

Zoe and Wild turned on Spencer, whacking him upside the head and scolding him for the comment. As the trio playfully argued, Li'le Terror left its parents and drove through the house. It came to the window doors leading to the kitchen courtyard. The tiny truck stopped just within the shadows of the house, peering with shy curiosity at the enormous metal beast in the courtyard. The little truck knew that the tank was sentient, but the toy had yet to see or hear evidence of this. After a minute when the tank did not chase it off, the toy slowly rolled forward.

Li'le Terror stopped in front of the tank. It darted forward then sped back. When nothing happened, it repeated this action several more times before becoming confident that the tank wouldn't eat it up if it invaded the tank's personal space. Twittering in awe, Li'le Terror drove under the tank, gapping at the size of the strange dark green machine. Suddenly, a large engine coughed and sparked to life over head, surrounding Li'le Terror with the thunder of a massive engine. With a terrified screech of little tires on the ground, the toy truck sped away. It stopped short when the tank spoke in Machine, the language of engine noises and light flashes making up the vehicle language.

**"Woha, there, little fellah, hold yer horses!"** the tank chuckled. **"I ain't gonna hurt ya none. What's got ya all skittish?"**

Li'le Terror remained parked just under the tank's front part, shaking and whimpering in terror. The Texan tank turned his cannon around, propping it on the edge of the pool platform behind him.

**"Don't worry, little guy, I don't mess with folks unless they're bullies or creeps. Come on up here, lemme get a good look at ya!"**

__Li'le Terror was getting the idea that the tank wasn't going to hurt it and sped about to the steps up to the pool platform. It bounced up the steps, drove along the edge of the pool platform, and carefully came onto the end of the tank's gun barrel. Using the grace and delicacy that giants are usually gifted with, the tank tipped his gun barrel up, sliding Li'le Terror onto his roof.

**"You're Equinox's and Ruby's kid, aren't ya?"** he asked. **"That's swell, just swell. I knew them two love birds were gonna make themselves a kiddy darn quick. M' name's Wayne: Wayne Boomer. M' friends call me Wayne, but m' enemies call me Boomer. What's yer name, kiddo?"**

__Li'le Terror didn't answer Wayne, choosing, instead, to drive about on his roof, whistling in approval of strange machine. Wayne didn't mind and just chuckled, enjoying the company.

"**Cute kid,"** he commented. **"But how the hell did your parents make ya?"**

- - - -

Zoe, Spencer, and Wild, meanwhile, were arguing the same point as they were walking around on the paved paths of the woodlands surrounding Spencer's mansion.

"They must have had a burst of passion, broadcasted the same _stuff_ that makes them sentient, and wound up making Li'le Terror sentient," Spencer suggested.

"But then how did Li'le Terror get in Ruby's trunk?" Wild asked. "And why was she so slow and stiff for a while? Don't forget that Equinox was really protective of her in that time!"

"It doesn't make any sense," Zoe muttered, "There is no scientifically possible way for Ruby to produce and create any sort of machine in her trunk or anywhere on her, er, frame. And yet, out popped Li'le Terror, revving and raving for the world—"

"Hey, can we be a bit more delicate about this?" Spencer laughed nervously, "I'm getting kinda awkward."

"Well, then, go back to the house and let us girls talk girl stuff," Wild chuckled, shoving at Spencer playfully.

"Marry, love, or kill; Will Smith, Tom Cruise, and Brittney Spears," Zoe jumped in.

"For the love of--!" Spencer exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air as he spun around. "Fine, fine, I can take the hint! Now, if you'll excuse me, I got to go and bleach my brain…"

Zoe and Wild laughed as Spencer left, grumbling good-naturally. This left the two women to stroll the outer limits of Spencer's property.

"Speaking of marrying and love," Zoe said, "How have you and Spencer been doing?"

Wild smiled, "You and Billy are betting on how we're doing, aren't you?"

"I say that you two are just friends, but Billy says that you're really close to tying the knot."

"Billy looses yet another challenge," Wild sighed. "Spencer and I _are_ close. I mean, we've known each other for a while and have fought _sentient machines_ together, for Pete's sake. But no _permanent _bonds, at least, not yet."

"Twenty bucks goes to my victory jar," Zoe cheered quietly. Returning to seriousness, "Spencer's a really nice guy. He's big boned, and kind of intimidating with the gun club memberships and size and all, but cuddly, like a giant teddy bear."

"Hey," Wild exclaimed as they came to a place where their paved path crossed the public dirt road leading through the forest, "Who's checking this guy out, you or me?"

"Well, _you're_ not taking him," Zoe teased. "And I like 'em older—"

"Go get your own rich teddy bear," Wild scolded mockingly.

The two laughed, enjoying themselves. They both fell silent, though, when they heard cars approaching from up the road. They stepped to the side of the road as they turned to look up, naturally curious as to who would come this far out in the woods.

- - - -

Spencer had cleaned up the kitchen and now sat at the table, facing the kitchen courtyard. He watched Wayne Boomer play with Li'le Terror through the glass windows. He smiled as he fiddled with something in his large, sausage-like fingers. He looked down at the item he was toying with and opened it. The contents glittered and cast artificial starlight up at Spencer's face and the ceiling. Suddenly, his cell phone rang and he shut the thing he was playing with, pulling his phone from his pocket and answering.

"Hello?" he asked.

"_Spencer, where's Zoe?"_ Billy asked frantically on the other end. _"I was watching her tracker on the map and it just went dead!"_

"Oh, no, where?" Spencer asked, jumping out of his seat.

"_Along the main dirt road,"_ Billy replied, _"About a mile south east of you."_

"I'll check it out," he said.

A few minutes later, Spencer was driving up the dirt road, scanning the bushes on either side of the road. He prayed that he wouldn't see blood stains, or a couple of bodies carelessly tossed in the ditch. He failed to find any.

"Billy, I don't see anything—"he began to say as he approached a hill.

Suddenly, a group of cars appeared, vaulting over the top of the hill, driving fast and acting even faster. With their speed, the fastest of them leaped clear over the top of the hill, landing at its base, and they dodged around Spencer. Spencer shouted in surprise and twisted around in time to see the cars speeding on back to his mansion.

Spencer cussed and told Billy, "Billy, get Kitt, Michael, and Cadge over here! There's, like, five speed demons heading to my place and I have a feeling that they have Zoe and Rebecca."

"_Stall them: We'll be there in twenty minutes."_

"We don't have twenty minutes!" Spencer exclaimed, turning his car around and running after the speedsters. "And how the hell am I supposed to stall them!?"

"_Well, you aren't exactly walking distance from here!"_

"Just hurry!" Spencer ordered before hanging up.

Coming back to the mansion, Spencer saw a strange sight: The five cars he had met on the road were running around and around the courtyard surrounding his mansion, driving dangerously close to pool edges and parked cars. Ruby was cornered, trembling nervously while Equinox was parked protectively in front of her, repeatedly roaring his engine ferociously as the road cars dodged in and out at them, teasing them. Spencer slammed on the brakes, barely keeping himself from T-boning the speeding cars. He flinched when one of the cars passed dangerously close to the passenger side, ripping off the side-view mirror on that side.

_I'm gonna get killed here! _Spencer realized.

Taking a gamble, he left his car and ran over to climb on top of four Lamborghinis parked in the front courtyard. From the new height, looking down at the road gang, he made several new observations.

First, they all had an identifying mark of some sort; usually a white stripe and spot. Second, they were all fancy cars; not exactly Ferrari or Lamborghini grade, but fast and expensive enough to make common folk get misty eyes dreaming about getting them.

Finally, they looked and acted like race devils, speeding and spinning around, knocking outdoor furniture over, leaving rubber burns in the tiled courtyard ground, and generally acting like a bunch of crazy, drunken teenagers on the night of their football victory. He could even hear the drivers and their occasional partnering passengers whooping and hollering and one or two even fired guns out the window.

It didn't help when he heard the roar of a tank drown out the speed devils' engines. He heard a clanking noise and looked up to see Wayne Boomer come rolling around the side of the mansion with Li'le Terror perched on his roof like a loyal parrot minion. Spencer swore that he heard Li'le Terror emit a rev like a cackle as Wayne shot at the nearest of the speedsters, a black car of some sort.

Mortar and tiling blew into the air on wings of fire as the car emitted a metal squeal-scream of pain and terror and flipped completely onto its back. Like pests acting on instinct to flee from the predator, the other invaders gathered together and fled the mansion. As Spencer watched, he saw the rear window of one of the cars get kicked out and a black-white stripped sandal get thrown out. Then the cars were gone, racing away until their engines could not be heard in less than twenty seconds.

"Hey, I ain't finished with you pig heads yet!" Wayne bellowed, "Get yer rear bumpers back here so I can kick 'em!"

Equinox, now parked close to Ruby for comfort, emitted a series of engine purrs and whistles that sounded shaky and fearful.

"I don't _care _if they're gone, I wanna kick their ass!" Wayne snarled.

"Calm down, Wayne," Spencer said, hopping down from his perch. "They're long gone by now. Anyway, you got one of them, didn't you?"

"Yes, yes I did," Wayne growled, aiming his gun at the flipped car, "Alright, ya rusting frigger, who are ya and what the hell are you and yer buddies up to?"

"Language," Spencer told Wayne. "And is the drover _still_ alive?"

"He, and yes, he is," Wayne hissed, "I can hear him pantin'."

Spencer strained his ears and sure enough, could hear fearful panting coming from the captured car. A moment later, the driver crawled out: A young man with silver-bleached hair, done up in spikes, dressed all in white to contrast his trashed black ride. He froze when he saw Wayne aiming at him. A look of utter terror filled his dark blue eyes and it didn't get better when Wayne spoke.

"Move and I'll blow your frigging brains out."

Joe went over and picked up the discarded sandal, turning it over in his hands. Yeap, it was one of Zoe's, alright. Cool fear briefly rushed through Spencer before he quickly capped it: Panicking wouldn't help get Zoe or Wild back. He needed to act and act fast, before anything back could happen to them.

"Well," he said, "Let's see if he knows where his buddies took Zoe and Wild."


	5. Interrogation

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Knight Rider or any attached blessings to it. Neither do I own any additionally mentioned culture references, locations, songs, et cetera. Make sure to leave a review!** C

**Chapter 5: Interrogation**

Even as that was going on, Chester, the drug addict that Kitt and Michael had first captured, sat in a lonely jail cell, fluttering back and forth from one bunk-lined side to the other. The only other person in the cell was a heavy-set biker in need of a shave and bath, sleeping off a rough session of alcohol on one of the bunks. Occasionally the biker's beady eyes would flick open, glance at Chester, then shut his eyes again and go back to his headache-bashing slumber. Outside of the cell, a lone rookie cop sat back in his rolling chair, feet set on the desk in front of him while he read the paper. His partner was kicking off from the walls, rolling back and forth in his own roller chair.

Their part of the station was lonely an unadorned: A single door leading from the rest of the station into the rookie guards' desk area, then a barred off large section for holding drunks and small time crooks until fines were paid or until they were moved to a real jail. An old heater was in the corner. It was a boring job.

Suddenly, Chester jumped at the bars, standing on a low horizontal brace and shaking the vertical bars, making them rattle in an almost cartoonish position pleading for freedom.

"Please, for the love of god, get me out of here before they get me!" he yipped.

"Who, the men in white coats?" the cop reading the newspaper asked without looking up.

"No, the Genie," Chester replied with complete seriousness, "I messed up bad; if I don't get moving soon, the Genie's gonna kill me! He'll send his riders and get me!"

"But doesn't someone have to rub the genie's lamp and he'll grant three wishes?" the newspaper cop asked, grinning and drawing a laugh from his partner.

"Shut up," the drunk mumbled, rolling over in his bunk. "You're too loud."

"Oh man, oh man, oh man," Chester whimpered, dropping away from the bars.

He began pacing back and forth, chewing on his nails and yanking at his thin brown-grey hair. He was breaking into a cold sweat, but no one was paying enough attention to see that. Suddenly, he sat down hard and began screaming. The newspaper cop growled and got up, drawing his club as he approached the jail.

"Shut up!" he snapped, knocking the club on the bars to make a racket, "You're over reacting! Jeez, at this rate you can get off the drug trafficking charges with the excuse of mental illness."

"Get me out of here, please!" Chester yelled.

He shot to his feet and seized the cop's shirt through the bars, drawing them as close together as he could. The roller chair rider stopped short in front of the door, watching as his partner struggled to release himself from Chester.

"Damnit, Dan, help me out here!" the cop Chester was grabbing yelled to the chair rider.

But before Dan could get up to help, the door behind him slammed open. Dan looked behind himself and saw that there were three figures decked up in heavy winter gear before the leader, a guy in a red coat , grabbed the back of his chair and shoved it away, throwing Dan into the wall. Dan fell out of his chair, colliding with the wall, and knocked his head into the old heater as he fell out of his chair. Chester released the other cop and stumbled back, hollering in an almost pathetically girlish manner at the sight of the winter-garbed men.

"What the--!?" the cop yelled, putting a hand on his gun.

A second figure, this one apparently female in a blue coat trimmed with black fur, spun around twice, kicking the cop in the head the first time, then sending him flying with a hell to the side on the second spin. She went over to the unconscious body and yanked the keys off the belt there and tossed them to the final invading figure: Someone dressed in a completely turquoise winter outfit of a long coat, wool cap, scarf, and goggles.

The turquoise leader snatched the keys out of the air and in moments, had opened the cell and stood over a cowering Chester in the corner. Behind him, the drunk lay stiffly in his bunk.

"You shouldn't have run, Chester," the turquoise person growled, drawing a silenced pistol from his coat. "You're only lucky that the shipment you stole was a dud, or I would have been forced to draw this out."

"Please, please, I'm sorry!" Chester sobbed, "I won't do it again, I-I-I'll work harder, p-p-p-please--!"

There was a quick, sharp zipping noise and Dan slumped over with a fresh hole in his head. The turquoise person put the gun back in his coat as he turned and strode out of the cell.

"What about the other guys?" the blue coat wearer asked, nodding to the cops, "Shouldn't we off them, too?"

"No gain," the leader grunted, "Come on; our distraction will start loosing attention soon…"

The trio left. Three minutes later, the drunk sat up in his bunk.

"Holy _shit_!" he exclaimed.

- - - -

Normally, Kitt and Michael do the interrogation. This time, though, with something more personal at stake, Spencer and Billy did the job.

Spencer slapped their spike-headed prisoner tied up in a chair in front of them.

"Who are you and where did you take the girls?" Spencer demanded.

"Yeah, where?" Billy snapped, slapping the man as well.

"Okay, Billy , if you're going to do that, at least do it with some zeal," Spencer instructed, "Here, like this…"

Slap!

"Oh, like this?"

Smack!

"Yeah, just like that."

The two started taking turns slapping the prisoner and he finally shook his head and shouted, "Fine, damnit, fine, I'll talk! I'll talk!"

The two stopped, hands raised.

"My name is Jake Nelson," the young man replied, "Age twenty-two, a member of the Silver Shells, a gang-for-hire. We were written a huge check by someone to rip your place up and steal your women. God, he never mentioned a _tank_ though…"

"Who hired you?" Billy asked.

"I don't know…"

"Who hired you!?" Billy shouted, raising his hand for a backhand.

Spencer gave Billy a surprised look; rage was just not the nerd's thing.

"I said I don't know!" Jake shouted, "It was an anonymous customer! He put in a big deposit for the job."

"Where are you taking the girls?" Spencer snapped.

"We were told to bring them to some abandoned drive-in lot on the highway," Jake groaned, "Said we'd get the rest of our money if we did it."

"What drive in? Where?" Spencer asked.

"Arabian Flicks," Jake replied, and managed to mumble out the rest of the address.

"Why would anyone want Zoe and Ms. Wild specifically?" Spencer asked.

"Frigged if I know," Jake grunted, "All I know is that some anonymous guy called, gave us a big wad of cash, and said that we would get the rest if we stole your girls and brought them to the Arabian Drive In. Please, man, you busted my ride, you're slapping me like little girls, what more do you want?"

Billy and Spencer replied with less womanly slaps before leaving.

"Our friends back," Spencer snarled.

- - - -

"Holy _cow_, will you look at _this?"_ Cadge asked, circling the trashed ride of Jake Nelson, "I mean, if you count out the dents, scratches, shattered glass, and total ruination, this is one hot car!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Wayne sighed.

Equinox and Ruby beeped in agreement.

Jake's ride had been hooked up to a lifter usually reserved to raise cars to get at their undersides. The lifter was one of ten lined up against the wall. Around them, there was a large concrete room the size of a football field lit by fluorescent lights; this was where the original Knight Industries had parked their vehicles and other large equipment before they had shut down. Now it was just some place Cadge and Kitt roamed in when it was storming outside. It had two entrances. One entrance and exit was a pair of large, air-locked iron doors leading to a wide, sloped tunnel connecting to the main entrance tunnel leading to the surface. The other was another set of air-tight bay doors leading to the main base; a precautionary for if Kitt wanted to directly from the main lair to the garage originally, it seemed.

The attack on the mansion had scared Wayne and Spencer and they had agreed to move the car family to FLAG headquarters. Now Cadge was admiring Jake's barely recognizable ride as Wayne, Equinox, Ruby, Li'le Terror, and Kitt stared from the side. Apparently, Cadge was seeing something in the twisted metal wreck that the others couldn't.

"Oh come on, _look_ at it!" Cadge exclaimed, "The sweeping lines, the oh-so-carefully cut and crafted body, the sleek smoothness of it all: It's glorious!"

Ruby muttered something in her engine.

"I know it looks like trash to _you_, but to me, this is a marvelous specimen of human ingenuity and engineering!"

"Cadge, you are frightening me," Kitt informed, "You are acting out of character."

"It's beautiful!!" Cadge yelled.

"Well, let's see if it can give us some clues," Sarah Graiman said, entering the garage and going up to the ruined car with rubber gloves on. "Drivers license, notes, anything that can help us figure out why these guys are bugging us."

"Please don't hurt it," Cadge whimpered, "It's so beautiful."

Sarah looked from Cadge to the wrecked car and back again. "Modern art sculpture lover" ran through her head briefly before she rolled her eyes and carefully maneuvered around twisted metal and broken glass to see what she could scavenge from the car.

Twenty minutes later, she had pulled out a wallet with Jake Nelson's drivers license and five bucks in it, a broken watch, four spent bullet shells, a car magazine with its main article circled, and a collection of women's panties from the creases of the backseat. She also found a badge in the shape of a silver bullet shell tacked to one of the mirror flaps.

"I have just finished examining Jake Nelson's records, Sarah," Kitt announced, "Jake appears to be a college student at the University of Phoenix with a history of speeding and minor violence. He does not have a known job and is barely paying for his college intuition somehow."

"Young, poor, wild, and stupid," Sarah said. She grinned at Michael as he walked through the door, "Sounds like someone I know."

"But he's not half as good looking," Michael bantered back. "Spencer and Billy cracked our guy pretty fast…"

He relayed off the information Billy and Spencer had wringed out of Jake.

"Wow, that was fast," Sarah commented, "Bet you know what we do now…"

"Right," Michael agreed, turning to Kitt as Kitt rolled forward. "Ready, Kitt?"

"I always am, Michael," Kitt confirmed, opening his driver's door.

"Can I come?" Cadge asked eagerly, jumping forward on his front wheels eagerly, "Can I? Can I? Huh? Huh? Can I?"

"Stay here and keep an eye on the base," Michael ordered, getting in Kitt. "We'll get Zoe and Ms. Wild back."

"Good luck!" Sarah called as the boys left.

No sooner had Michael left did Billy come running to the entrance of the garage.

"Hey, is Michael around?" he called.

"No, you just missed him. He went out after Zoe and Wild," Sarah replied.

"Crap, Chief Wagner from the last mission is on the phone. Says it's important: Apparently, the druggie we caught, Chester? Well, he was killed."

- - - -

Normally, the FLAG members would be able to talk face-to-face via webcam, but this time Wagner only had a common phone and hence they were left watching an audio line on their jumbo screens as Sarah, Billy, and Spencer talked to him.

"So a big gang fight broke out, and while the police force was out stopping it, three guys stormed the station, knocked out anyone they came across, killed Chester, and left?" Billy summarized.

"You got it," Wagner replied. "The only guy that didn't get knocked out or killed was the drunk in the same cell as Chester. He played at being asleep during the attack, but he saw it all. Name of the drunk is Willie Gamer."

"Willie Gamer?" Spencer asked.

"You know him?" Sarah asked.

"Yeah, he's one of my gun buddies," Spencer replied, "Hey, Wagner, can you get old Willie on the line for me?"

"_You're on speaker,"_ Wagner replied after a click.

"_Hello?"_ a slightly frog-y, deep voice grunted.

"Willie, you son of a gun, how the hell have you been?" Spencer chuckled.

"_Spencer, holy crap, of all the sons of bitches I wind up talking to!"_ Willie laughed. He asked Spencer how had _he_ been, but with considerably more cussing.

"Watch the language, Willie, we got ladies present," Spencer chuckled, patting Billy.

"Hey--!" Billy began.

"_Hmm. Sounds cute, too."_

"I'm not--!" Billy began.

"So, Willie, can you tell me what happened?" Spencer asked.

"_Sure. Well, I was just trying to snore off a hangover, but that damn little jitter bug, Chester you're calling him, couldn't sit still. Kept yelling for us to let him out, or 'the Genie and his riders' would come and get him. The cops laughed it off and he suddenly sat down and started screaming. Kid was going loopy and around the bend, I tell ya. So one of the cops got up and tried knocking some sense into him, and I just laid still and pretended to sleep, not wanting to hold the dope head down while they sedated him or whatever. One of the cops got up to calm Chester down, but he grabbed him through the bars and kept hollering to be let out. Just as the cop calls for his buddy to help him out, the door slams open and these three whackos come in dressed for a blizzard, even though lord knows it's like, 80 degrees outside without the humidity factor."_

"What did they specifically look like?" Sarah asked, fingers poised over a keyboard, "Be as specific as possible, please."

"_Well, the first guy was, oh, four and a half feet tall, dressed in an ugly plastic blue coat. Reached to his knees, hardly had any shape at all, and these big, poofey sleeves with a second jacket underneath. He was wearing a black wool cap, a tan scarf with fringes, blue jeans, and heavy black snow boots with tan leather work gloves. He was wearing square-ish ski mask goggles over his eyes._

"_The second guy, was, well, a girl. You could tell: she was wearing a girl coat, kind of a pretty blue-white with black fur trimming, but the fake stuff, you know. She was also wearing tight blue jeans that hugged her cute apple bottom just right, with brown boots with the little fuzz balls on the ends of the strings and black mittens with a red scarf and matching hat; the type with a giant stupid fuzz ball on top. I'd say she was, oh, five-three? She was tall._

"_The last guy was just a few inches taller than the girl and seemed to be the head honcho. He was certainly dressed the best, and he oft Chester himself. He had this nice, long, soft turquoise coat reaching his ankles with matching boots, gloves, and hood with black sunglasses over his eyes and a white scarf over his face. He had this white fuzz trimming on the coat and he was as cool as ice, I could tell. Freaky._

"_Well, these three busters come in, knock the guards out, open the cell with the guard's keys, and pop Chester in the face and leave. But before they do it, the turquoise guy said something to Chester. Said something about how he stole their shipment and how it was good that it was a dud, or they would have to kill Chester slow-like. Poor son of a bitch went out crying. Pardon my French, ma'am."_

Billy gritted his teeth, but Spencer patted him on the back and went on, "Alright, thanks, Willie. You take care of yourself, 'kay?"

"_Will do, Spencer, will do_," Willie chuckled.

"Officer Wagner, did you happen to notice any silver bullet shell badges on the gang members you were breaking up?" Sarah called.

"_As a matter of fact, I did, Miss Graiman,"_ Wagner replied, "_Everyone one of them had a silver bullet shell badge on their hats, pants, or stickered on their cars. I think they were having a civil war or something, but they weren't hurting each other too much."_

"So the Silver Shells kidnapped Zoe and Wild _and_ made a distraction to kill Chester?" Billy realized, "How are these guys connected?"

"Wait," Sarah said, "If the shipment we intercepted Chester with was just a stolen dud, than the guys we took down for it were just second-hand thieves, which means…"

"We got a whole new team watching from the stands," Spencer confirmed, nodding.

"_Anything I can help with?" _Wagner asked.

"Yeah: Keep an eye on that gang," Sarah ordered, "They're the Silver Shells, and they just might be working with someone a whole lot more dangerous than we initially thought."


	6. The Plot Thickens

**Disclaimer: I do not own Knight Rider or any attached blessings to it. Neither do I own any additionally mentioned culture references, locations, songs, et cetera.**

**Chapter 6: The Plot Thickens**

Michael didn't like the debriefing he got about the update of information as he drove with Kitt to intercept the Silver Bullets.

"A _dud_?" Michael exclaimed, "The power-up shipment was a freaking _dud_?"

"That's what I said," Sarah said.

"Aw _crap_!" Michael exclaimed, "I hate power-up missions! The guys I fought with over that stuff were freaking _hard_! Oh, jeez, if that was just the _dud_, then I'm going to need an army for the real deal."

"I am sure that with proper tactical approaches, we will be able to defeat the 'real deal' easily, Michael," Kitt assured. "We are almost to the Arabian Drive In."

Michael looked out at the desert from behind Kitt's windshield and saw that, sure enough, on the side of the lonely desert high way was a ruined building and crumbling TV screen in the distance. Smoke was trailing up from near the building, reaching into the sky and disappearing. Michael felt a sick feeling in his stomach.

"Uh oh," he muttered.

"This does not bode well," Kitt agreed.

Pulling into the drive in a few minutes later, Kitt and Michael were greeted with a rather nasty surprise. Five cars had come to the parking lot, but now all were on fire. Crumbled bodies were sprawled here and there. Judging by how they were slumped against the cars or sprawled, face-down on the ground, they had been taken by surprise and those who had attempted to run had been shot in the back. Michael saw the glitter of silver bullet shell badges on some of the bodies. He saw a small white spot on the far side of the parking lot and went over to it and picked it up. It was another one of Zoe's black and white striped sandals.

Looking at the ground, Michael noted that there were rubber burns right by the sandal. The tracks had a peculiar pentagon pattern.

"The Silver Shells delivered Zoe and Wild," he said, "But the other guys killed them and set fire to their cars."

"But why would they turn on their business partners?" Kitt asked, "And who would want Zoe and Wild?"

"I don't know," Michael replied. "Kitt, scan these rubber burns here and see if you can figure out what kind of car took Zoe and Wild."

He stepped aside as Kitt rolled forward. A red ray of light beamed down from Kitt's front grille and scanned the rubber burn tracks.

"Processing track burns," Kitt announced.

After a quiet moment of computer processing, broken only by the crackling of fire, Michael heard a new noise and looked up to see glittering metal approaching them on the highway.

"Uh, Kitt," Michael said, "We have company."

Just as he said that, the glitters of metal came sliding into the parking lot, stopping with jerks of brakes and screeching rubber. The glitters were all drag racing cars, and the silver shells painted on their cars and wheels showed them as members of the same gang that the dead were apart of. There was a moment of shocked silence as the five new comers saw their comrades burning and then looked to Michael and Kitt. Then, like most people struck with grief, the new guys jumped to conclusions.

As one, the car doors opened and the drivers and their passengers got out of their cars, bearing guns and a look of rage and hurt on their faces.

"You double crossing--!" one of the guys yelled, aiming his gun at Michael.

Michael cussed and dropped down behind Kitt as the Silver Shells opened fire. The bullets rained down on Kitt, but only emitted brief blue-light waves before Kitt's nanobots repaired any and all damage instantly. Spent shells rained to the pavement with light tinkling noises.

"They think we killed them!" Michael exclaimed, clutching Zoe's sandal to him self, "Crap, this isn't good!"

"But we didn't," Kitt responded. "Can't we just tell them that?"

A bullet zinged by over head, inches from Michael. He ducked instinctively.

"You think they're in a _listening_ mood, Kitt?" Michael snapped, "All they know is that their friends went for a business transaction, and came here to find all their friends dead with just _us_ hanging around!"

"Well, in that case," Kitt said, opening his driver's door. "Shall we go?"

Michael jumped into Kitt and Kitt took off with a screech of tires, racing right by the Silver Shells and onto the highway. The Silver Shells got back into their cars and took off, with their passengers leaning out of the windows to shoot at Kitt.

"Kitt: Activate EMP," Michael ordered, taking control.

"EMP activated," Kitt responded.

A blue and white electric wave of light rushed out from Kitt and rushed around their pursuers. Instantly, the Silver Shells' engines died and fell silent, leaving them behind on the road. Two stragglers maneuvered around their fallen comrades and sped after Kitt, continuing to try and shooting him out. A bullet rocketed into a rear tire and it went out with a hiss, only to swell right back up.

"One of my rear tires is out, Michael," Kitt informed. "My emergency inflatable tire can only go for twenty miles before going flat again."

"How long until the EMP is ready for another go?" Michael asked.

"Three minutes."

"Alright, you drive, I'll take care of this."

Michael drew his gun out of the glove compartment and rolled down Kitt's window, getting on his knees in the driver's seat and turning around to face the seat back. Carefully, he clutched the seat with one arm while the other held his hand gun and he leaned out. He ducked back in when bullets zipped by outside. After a calming breath, he ducked out, pulled the trigger a few times, and ducked back in. He did this a couple more times until he had managed to work out his targets' general range. One last time, he leaned out and fired at the pavement inches from the front of the Silver Shells' front wheels. By the time the bullet reached its target, the bullet perfectly shot out a front tire. In a few shots like this, the Silver Shells were left with flat tires and left behind.

Michael sat back in his seat the right way, panting nervously.

"Let's not do that again," he said, tossing the gun into the passenger seat.

"Like we have a choice?" Kitt responded.

- - - -

"These are sports car tire tracks," Sarah said after analyzing the tracks Kitt had scanned and pictured. "It's specialized for sharp turns at fast speeds. This weird pentagon pattern it has helps with gripping and traction. Who ever took Zoe ad Wild and killed the Silver Shells was riding a fast car."

"Speaking of fast cars, that Jake guy has a _hell_ of a taste of cars, like this Ferrari article he circled!"

Cadge was parked to the side of the humans and Kitt in the lobby of the lair. Currently, he was using his tentacles to hold the magazine they had found in Jake's car in the air so that he could read it.

"Here, Cadge, let me see that," Sarah ordered.

Taking the magazine in hand without the least bit of repulsion of the tentacles, Sarah opened up to the main article page. Spencer, Michael, and Billy looked over her shoulder at the pages of tiny print, broken by large, generically professional backgrounds of forests and blurred city streets. The focus of the main article was a car, a bluish silver 2006 Ferrari 599 GTB Fiorano, to be exact.

It was a unique sports car, with a flat front and peaked roof, it almost seemed like a Mustang at first glance. But the head lights, made of dark red and orange lenses with its lights off, were marked with a tube-like main light colored silver in contrast to the red and yellow glass, giving it an almost crazy person stare. The effect was similar to a hollow stare with dark bags under one's eyes, or the blackness around a zombie's eyes; innocently neutral, but creepy and untrusting, none the less. This, coupled with the vent pockets below the head lights on either side of the grille, only added to its creepy factor, making it have a sort of "skull face".

"The Ferrari Fiorano is an impressive car on its own, even without the help of Barney Benji to further its reputation," Sarah began reading aloud. "Billy?"

"On it," Billy said, going to the computer to research Benji.

"Barney Benji, a lad from Idaho, already making a name for him self as the pet shop owner for celebrities, has increased the value and unique individuality of the Ferrari by accomplishing maneuvers of great skill in the Ferrari."

"Meaning?" Cadge asked.

"He's done cool-looking stunts with it," Kitt translated.

"Oh."

"Pretty nice car for a dork living in Idaho, land of the potato," Billy commented.

"Speak for your self, spud face," Spencer said.

In the absence of Zoe, Spencer appeared to have taken up her role of insulting Billy.

"Precisely," Billy agreed, ignoring the spud face remark, "So I dug a little deeper and what do you know, he's got a criminal record at age twenty-nine."

"Shocker," Michael said sarcastically as he rolled his eyes.

"Dog fighting, rooster fighting, and a top-notch smuggler," Billy listed off, "He even has enough cash to keep his dirty work out of the presses. Officially, he breeds and sells expensive pets to rich people, but he's really selling fighting dogs and roosters. He's just a content middle man making an unusually high amount of money, even for a man in his position."

"I agree," Kitt stated. "Even as an illegal animal fighter and smuggler, the only way Mr. Benji could make so much money in such a short amount of time to afford a Ferrari is if he were selling government secrets or dealing drugs at ridiculously inflated prices. Either this, or he stole the Ferrari."

"Stole it," all the humans agreed.

"And look at this," Sarah said, sticking the magazine under a scanner.

A moment later, the magazine appeared, magnified multiple times, on screen. Sarah did a close up on a picture showing one of the Ferrari's tires and reached over to a computer to do some effects so that the image became sharper. Soon, the image of a peculiar pentagon pattern appeared on the tires.

"Pentagon tires," Sarah confirmed, "And in the article, Benji 'jokes' that his wish was granted by a genie. Chester mentioned a genie, right? It might be nothing, but it's the best we're going on. Kitt, Michael, you'll have to go out an investigate Mr. Benji."

"Can I--?"

"No, Cadge, you're staying here."

"Damnit!"

"Language. Spencer; you and I are going to Wagner's police station and see if we can find any more clues as to who these guys are that killed Chester. If there really _is _a strong power up out there, we got to catch it before it gets in the wrong hands."

"So we can lock it in a crate in a giant warehouse of other crates," Cadge growled dramatically.

Everybody looked at him.

"What?" he asked, "Indiana Jones reference? Anyone? Anyone? Oh, you guys _suck_!"

** - - - -**

"Our deal is that I protect you if you bring me Michael _alive_!"

People shopping in the super market jumped at the engine roar underlining the shout and turned to stare at the alley from whence it came. Inside the alley, a silver Mustang with a black stripe on top was parked. The yellow pulsating light on its front was zipping back and forth at a rapid pace like an agitated bee. Leaning against the alley wall in front of the car was a tall, slim male figure clad all in turquoise and white winter gear, in spite of the shinning sun and hot summer day. The figure's face, turned to watch the passing crowds, was hidden by ski goggles, mask, and a hood.

"You only said that you wanted Mr. Knight," the figure replied coolly, "You never mentioned in what condition."

The car reared up in its center like an arching cat, resisting a change.

"Listen, you idiotic Arkham Asylum reject--!" the car began to snarl again.

Without turning to look, the human's arm came out and slammed a fist into the car's hood. There was a loud bang of denting metal and the car went down as its grille light froze momentarily in shock. A fist-sized crater was now imprinted into the hood. _Now_ the man turned to look at the car. When he spoke, his voice was icy, but hot with anger.

"Now listen, _Karr_," he hissed, "_You_ came to _me_ with your wish, and now I'm granting it with _my_ methods. Now, unless you want to do this _all by yourself_, I'll dispose of the women and abandon your wish."

"If you don't help me, I'll see to it personally that you'll be my bargaining chip back into good graces with the federal agents, _Genie,_" Karr growled, "I can imagine that the hospital is missing you _so_ much."

The Genie stiffened, but then turned and seemed to target a passing person. The target seemed to be a college kid, still wide-eyed and innocent of the world beyond his home town. With curly blonde hair and green eyes, the kid was defiantly cute. He had a pack on his back and a paper in his hand, frequently glancing between the paper and the buildings.

"You lost, kid?" the Genie called out.

The kid looked up and was notably puzzled by the Genie's choice of wardrobe, but shyly admitted, "Uh, ah ha, yeah. Um, can you direct me to 3672 on Oak Street?"

"Yeah, I can take you there; I live there!" the Genie lied, "Come on, I'll give you a ride!"

"Hey, thanks! Wow, _nice_ car! That yellow light custom?"

"Yeap! Hop in; we'll be there in a jiffy."

"Hey, man, what's with the winter gear? It's like, seventy degrees out here!"

"Skin condition, I'm afraid. Strap in, now!"

_You poor, dumb kid,_ Karr thought as he allowed the Genie to drive him out of the alley way and down the street.


	7. Middle of Nowhere

**Disclaimer: I do not own Knight Rider or any attached blessings to it. Neither do I own any additionally mentioned culture references, locations, songs, et cetera.**

**Chapter 7: Middle of Nowhere**

Benji lived in a farm house in the middle of no where with a large barn in the back, and not a tree to be seen for miles. There were no tracings of actual agriculture or animals about, but Kitt and Michael noted that there were several road tracks beaten into the dirt about the land.

"Looks like he's humble enough of a guy externally," Michael commented, "But he sure does like his hard driving."

"Indeed, Michael," Kitt agreed. "Perhaps he keeps his vehicles in the barn?"

"I hope so," Michael said as they pulled up to the farm house. "Because I _really_ don't feel like infiltrating any secret lairs or locked up warehouses today."

"We will do what we must, lair infiltration included," Kitt said as Michael got out of him.

"Wish me luck, Kitt," Michael said, approaching the house.

"_There is no such thing as luck, Michael; only fortunate coincidences,"_ Kitt said in Michael's ear wig.

"Yeah, and there's no such thing as a smart ass with a good sense of humor," Michael muttered, ringing the house's door bell.

"_I heard that. And you are wrong: You act like a smart ass all the time and yet crack jokes all the time."_

Michael grinned and held back a laugh. When the door opened, his face had resumed its usual glowering, squinty-eyed mask. The person entering the door was definitely Barney Benji, dressed in an old Coldplay T-shirt and swimming shorts with flip flops. His picture matched the one in the magazine, excluding the wardrobe: narrow, triangular face, pale, and short, messy brown hair.

"Barney Benji?" Michael asked.

"Who's asking?" Benji replied.

"The friend of two women who have been kidnapped by thugs by some one driving your car, a Ferrari 599 GTB?"

"Oh, shit, I told that guy not to get into trouble!" Benji swore.

Michael lifted an eye brow.

"I know, its sounds crazy, but whatever it is I can't help you," Benji went on. "Besides, you wouldn't believe me if I told you! I mean, who would believe in _sentient machines_, any way? I mean, sure, there was the Nevada Incident, but—"

"What's the hold up, Michael?" Kitt called from the porch.

"Benji think we won't believe in living cars, Kitt," Michael called over his shoulder, "Isn't that something?"

Looking back at Benji, Michael was rewarded with the sight of Benji's dropped jaw and wide eyes that stared at Kitt.

"Is he…?" Benji ventured.

"Government creation, programmed AI," Michael said. "We were the ones who stopped the Nevada Incident and the guy who caused it."

"Huh… well, then, come on in and I'll tell you all you want to know."

The inside of the farm house looked more like a college frat house, with the floors littered with trash, food stains in the oddest places, and an elaborate video game system set up under the wide screen TV in the corner. The scent of alcohol, old perfumes and colognes, and forgotten party snacks was nothing new to Michael, being at home in alcohol-soaked environments. It seemed unorthodox for someone breeding expensive pets, but Michael assumed that Benji had expensive tastes and people on his bribing pay roll.

Benji cleared the pizza boxes, fast food wrappers, and even some lady's underwear off the couch and an arm chair beside it before gesturing for Michael to sit. He stuffed the underwear into his shorts' pocket before plopping down on the couch and Michael took the arm chair.

"So, where do you want to start?" Benji asked.

"Let's start with how and where you got the Ferrari and end at when it left your sight," Michael said.

"You got it. Let's see, I guess you already know about my animal battle and smuggling services? Of course you do; a government guy with a sentient car would. Anyway, I got started around twenty, twenty-one, and after some hit-and-miss attempts, I got my feet and made a decent living. I got this place, right? All to myself, too; no mortgage or anything. I can even afford to pay off some cops to conveniently be too busy to investigate any reports of dog or rooster fighting around here.

"About three years ago, one of the big heads of the Mob found that he liked my place and started hanging out here. He betted on and played in the dog and rooster fights, played poker here, and even had some family parties here. I didn't say any thing of course, not wanting to get any excess _lead_ in my diet, but then I kind of got annoyed because his presence was intimidating and scaring off my customers. So I sucked some courage up—all six pints of it, straight-up Canadian—and told this guy what's what and basically told him to scram and let my customers back or I was gonna pop him.

"It was sheer stupidity and I was sixty ways screwed to Sunday by six AM and drunk enough to greet it like my sister, but I guess I amused him or impressed him or _something_ because he complied. He left and my customers came back and things were balanced again. Just a day after the encounter, though, he sent me the Ferrari with a note saying, 'you can't pronounce your R's or A's worth a crap when you're drunk.' I used a lot of references to his mother and whores in the encounter.

"So, yeah, I got drunk and was the luckiest bastard in the world by getting a sweet-ass new car in return. I've only used it for a bit of fun and showing off at big city parties, until the Nevada Incident.

"See, when the Nevada Incident happened, I was running some champion roosters to a correspondent in Phoenix and was cutting through Nevada. I had just crossed the border from Nevada to New Mexico when the Ferrari suddenly went sailing back and forth across the road before I got it under control. A few miles back, other machines were realizing, 'hey! I can drive _myself_!' and having an oh-so ducky time about it.

"Well, the incident was all cleaned up by the time I dropped the roosters off and made my way back here. It was only when I was about to give the car a bath to get the desert dirt off of it that it told me it either wanted a machine wash or six sexy babes cleaning him. Oh, and its—or his—name was Izago.

"What. The. Hell.

"Well, for a time I just screamed incoherently, ran away, exorcised the car over and over again, and even put a hold on business until I got over it. We've been just kind of goofy room mates; pulling pranks on each other, bantering, arguing over how or when we pull in cash for the bills, stuff like that. Up until two weeks ago, when Izago just up and told me he was leaving and left me. He said that he had to keep Aladdin from rubbing the magic lamp or the Genie was gonna screw things up. I had no idea what he was talking about."

"And it looks like you two were close, depending on how you've been taking his leaving pretty hard," Michael said, nudging away the wrapped up half of an old Subway sandwich.

"Oh, it's always like this," Benji said. "Actually, I've been pretty cool with it. Let some other poor, unlucky bastard mess with Izago for a while. When ever it's the full, or near full, moon he goes absolutely postal. Doesn't speak, teases motorists, races cops, stuff like that, and he's a complete random lunatic for the rest of the month. So, what else do you wanna know?"

"Do you have any idea exactly where Izago's gone?" Michael asked, "East, west, north, south, Australia? And what's this Genie he's talking about?"

"Nope, nada; just said that he had to stop Aladdin from rubbing the lamp and releasing the Genie, and zoom, hasta-la-bye-bye into the sun set."

"Where did Izago, er, _park_ while he was here?"

"You mean where did he sleep? Just outside, here, I'll show you," Benji said, getting up.

Benji led Michael outside and to a sort of lean-to garage on the house's eastern side. Made from an original porch roof, walls had been constructed to make it an attached shed to the house. In the single-window structure, Michael saw the usual outdoor care supplies, such as a weed whacker, a lawn mower, other tools, and a wide open space where a car had once parked. Some swim suit model posters were pasted on the inner side of the garage door.

"He never customized it any," Benji informed. "Didn't have hands, you know. Except those," he added, pointing to the swim suite posters, "He had me put _those_ up."

"Nice taste," Michael joked. "Do any of your, um, _customers_ know about Izago?" he asked, entering the make-shift garage.

"Nah; Izago was a prankster and a joker, but he never let anyone else besides me know that he was sentient and I never told anyone. I _don't _think I'll look good in a straight jacket. If anyone asks why my Ferrari is gone, I tell them that I let a close friend borrow it. Hell, I didn't want feds popping caps up my ass! No offense."

He looked up and looked around the edge of the house. Michael heard engines approaching.

"Shit, it's some of my customers," Benji cussed, "I race with them to get friendly and they help business out. They'll cream me if they know I got a fed with me!"

He hastily shoved Michael deeper into the garage and pulled the sliding door down, slamming it down and locking Michael in.

"Can I borrow your car? Thanks!" Benji called, bolting away.

"_Michael, do I __have__ to let him drive me?"_ Kitt asked. There was defiantly a whining tone in his other-wise mature voice.

"Yeah, keep an eye on him, Kitt," Michael ordered. "I'll report back to headquarters with this."

He heard voices talking and bantering, then crows of approval as the gang saw "Benji's new ride". After a while, car doors slammed and engines faded out as they left. Michael's eyes had accustomed to the light coming from the garage window and began to look through the garage for clues as he reported back to FLAG via ear wig with what he had found and was updated, himself, about Chester.

"So let's go over what we know thus far," Michael said, kneeling on the dirt ground to rummage through a tool box. "We recently stopped a thief with a shipment of dud power ups. He gets killed by some guys, and the same guys apparently hire the Silver Shell gang to kidnap Zoe and Wild, only to turn and kill the Silver Shells delivering Zoe and Wild and thus frame _me_ for the deaths. There is a sentient Ferrari called Izago. Chester, the thief, mentioned a Genie before he got killed, and Izago, mentioned stopping 'Aladdin' from 'rubbing the lamp' or else the Genie would screw things up.

"In conclusion, we have a bad guy figurehead or symbolism of some sort going by the name of Genie and he's apparently a guy with allies with a power-up serum running around. Now we got to find out where these guys hang out at, what they want with Wild and Zoe, and how to get them back."

_"Right, right, and right again,"_ Sarah confirmed. _"Jake seems willing to spill the beans, but we have to do something for him first, he says."_

"What's that?"

_"Repair his car; boys and their toys. But I'm worried that he's gonna take it and run."_

"Well, I have an idea, but it's cruelly sneaky and back stabbing and will all around piss him off," Michael said.

He shoved the tool box aside and began to go through an old paint can of spare nuts, bolts and screws.

_"What is that?"_ Sarah asked.

Michael shifted through the nuts and bolts before moving onto another can.

"Repair the car, get our answers then bust it up again before he escapes."

_"Sounds good to me,"_ Spencer commented.

_"NO!!"_ Sarah and Billy exclaimed.

_"Come on, Spencer,"_ Billy said. _"I know he might be a prisoner and enemy and he may have helped kidnap some of our women and trash your mansion, but, come on man, have some bar of decency. We're the good guys, remember?"_'

_"I'm just afraid about what could be happening to them now,"_ Spencer fretted. _"What happens if they're already dead?"_

_ "We can't assume anything until we know what the Genie even __wants__ with Zoe and Wild, Spencer, so calm down and keep your gun's safety lock on," _Sarah instructed. _"I'm curious about how Izago stayed sentient, though. According to Benji, he was sentient straight from the day of the Nevada Incident. Is that possible?"_

_"Yeah,"_ Billy confirmed, _"He drove the car out of the field of the sentience-broadcasting virus just as it started and spent the next five hours of the virus in Las Vegas. By the time he passed back through on his way home, the virus had already been taken care of and hence, his car never got the antidote broadcast."_

_ "Oh my god, you had a smart idea, Billy. I'll go see if it's raining fire yet,"_ Spencer said.

_ "Screw you, Spencer. Screw. You."_

Michael spotted something peeking out from under a paint bucket of spare parts. Curiously, he pulled it out and found it to be a picture.

In the picture, bluish-silver Ferrari 399 GTB was parked facing the lower left corner of the picture from a slightly raised angle. It was night time and the picture was slightly blurred by the camera man's accidental movement. In the background were some classic shabby brick buildings. A neon sign on a first-floor window was in the shape of a bright oil lamp with blue smoke coming from it. Below it, in red neon lights, it read, "Aladdin's Bar". On a fire escape balcony over the sign, framed in a lit-up window, was a masculine figure looking out to the Ferrari and camera man.

"Hello," Michael said.

_"What is it, Michael?"_ Sarah asked.

"I just found a picture…" Michael said, and proceeded to describe it to her.

_"We're going to need you to scan it through Kitt and send it to us so we can get a direct look at it," _Billy said_. "I've never had much of an imagination."_

_ "Perhaps that's why you've never imagined yourself with a good-looking girl?"_

_ "Screw you, Spencer, Zoe is beautiful."_

_ "Okay, let me rephrase that: A good looking girl __who actually wants you back__."_

_ "You are so, so cruel."_

"Yeah, I'll do that as soon as Benji gets back with Kitt," Michael agreed.

"What if he doesn't come back?" Sarah asked.

_"Trust me: Kitt won't let a guy like Benji get him."_

- - - -

Michael was right.

The other three drivers Benji was making friendly time with were in only slightly expensive cars that had been upgraded into hot rods. They attempted to drive circles around Kitt and Benji, but Kitt would have none of it. Benji tried taking over, but the seat belt strapped him into the seat as it slid back too far from the pedals to let Benji reach them.

"Hey--!" Benji exclaimed.

"No." Kitt stated.

"But I _gotta_ drive! _I'm_ the human!"

"No."

"The other guys will see!"

"I have tinted windows, and I can assure that if you touch my pedals _or_ my wheels, you are _not_ getting the touching body part back."

"Oh, come _on_—"Benji muttered.

Panels in Kitt opened up and from them popped numerous guns and sharp objects, all aiming at Benji. Benji paled as his eyes widened.

"Uh…" he said, "Where did _those_ come from?"

"From internal compartments you uneducated cretin," Kitt grunted, "Please keep your hands and feet to yourself or I _will_ deny my programming and hurt you."

Benji wasn't sure if the government was nuts enough to make a sentient machine that could hurt humans. But he didn't want to find out by experimentation, so he pouted, but kept silent.

- - - -

_"This_ isn't Oak Lane," the college kid said.

"Of course not," the Genie replied, passing the kid a pipe, "Here, give a whiff of _this_."

"No thanks, I don't smoke," the college kid replied, attempting to give back the long pipe.

"Oh _bull_," the Genie snorted, shoving the pipe back, "Everyone tries _once_ while in college."

The college kid looked about at the club the Genie had brought him to. It seemed an innocent enough of a place; more like a hippie nest than anything else, with everybody mellowed out by the smoke and drinks. Deciding to give it a shot, he tried it out.

A little while later, after some guys had dragged the kid's twitching form out of the club, the Genie took out a notebook and jotted down some notes.

"Hmm," he muttered, "Not _quite_ enough poppy in that last attempt. Maybe a little more willow extract to numb the body and some poppy juice will make it better? From there, it'll be a matter of details…"

Muttering of herb formulae and ingredients to himself, the Genie got up and returned to his lab.


	8. Birds And Dogs

**Disclaimer: I do not own Knight Rider or any attached blessings to it. Neither do I own any additionally mentioned culture references, locations, songs, et cetera.**

**Chapter 8: Dogs and Birds**

Michael found some rotting wood in the wall at the back of the shack-garage and kicked a board out, wriggling through it and getting back into the sunny outdoors. In the distance, he heard the cars running around, but they were too far away to see. He began to walk over to the barn.

"_What are you doing, Michael?"_ Sarah asked.

"Going to see how Benji's business is doing," Michael replied. "If it's doing good, call in animal protection; I don't care if he helps us or not, we're _not_ letting him get away with animal cruelty."

"_Good man, Michael, good man,"_ Spencer complimented as Michael came up to the barn's main doors and slipped in between them.

"_Why do people like it when dogs and roosters fight?"_ Cadge innocently asked, _"Sarah always tells me that all men are dogs, anyway, and that the cowardly ones are chickens!"_

"_Um, it's a… superiority complex issue,"_ Sarah said carefully, unsure of whether to react with embarrassment, amusement, or awkwardness.

"_Oh. Billy says that Michael had a superiority complex issue until it got punched out of him."_

"You shouldn't listen to everything Billy says, Cadge," Michael replied.

Inside the barn was one's typical barn setting: Large, with a main dirt floor in the center with stables and a couple of storage rooms on either side, and a ladder leading to the massive hay loft above. Michael could hear pigeons cooing and an occasional bat squeak from the rafters over head, and smell hay and dirt, but of dog and rooster fighting, Michael saw nothing.

"Where does he keep his business?" Michael asked, walking around and peeking into the empty stalls.

"_Michael,"_ Billy suggested_, "Look for the storage cellar. Its entrance should be a door in the floor."_

At first Michael thought Billy was making some sort of rhyming joke, but under the hay and pigeon and bat dung on the floor, he spotted a rusted metal ring worn smooth with use. Hauling up on it, the barn debris slid off as the ring pulled a door up with it, revealing a ladder going into the ground beneath it. Now he smelled dog food, waste, dogs, blood, and heard the loud barking and angry screeching of battle animals.

"Sarah…" Michael said.

"_I'm contacting animal services now; they should be there with in the hour."_

Michael went down into the cellar, dropping the door over him as he went. After a short climb down, Michael went through a short, narrow tunnel and came into a large underground cellar. What had once been used to store potatoes and other tools, as well as protect a family during a storm, had been transformed into a gladiator stadium.

Lining three of the walls and filling a smaller attached room were cages and cages of dogs and roosters, all barking, howling, and screeching threats to their opponents-to-be and hollering for attention. Michael could hardly hear himself think around all the noise. In the center of the cellar, there was a shallow pit with a fence surrounding it: A place for the animals to fight and die. Michael sighed and shook his head in disgust at the scene.

"Evil crooks can't get their kicks killing each other, now they got to kill dogs and birds, too?" he muttered.

"At least I make sure that they're fed, watered, and properly bandaged."

Michael spun around and came face-to-face with Benji. He had his arms crossed across his chest and a clearly unhappy scowl on his face. Backing him were three men, all dark in complexion and clothes with their arms crossed in a similar angry manner, though carrying guns. One the men hollered something in German and the animals quieted down.

"This is low, man, really low," Benji growled, "I help you and you go sneaking behind my back like this."

"It doesn't matter how well you take care of them or how much you help me," Michael replied, "Animal fighting is wrong, period. Animals aren't supposed to fight to the death, not like this, and I can't let you do this. I'm taking you down for good this time, Benji, and you're not getting out of the dog pound _this_ time."

"Pfft, lame," one of the back up men snorted.

"Well, then, I'm afraid that we'll just have to make sure you get the full experience before you leave. Larry, Conner, toss him in the pit. Ken, let's get the dog from cage forty-six and _introduce_ him to Michael."

Two of the men approached Michael. Michael acted first, though, and took them both out with swift punches and kicks to the head. The final guy, Ken, aimed his gun at Michael. Michael ducked as the shot rank out, shattering the lock of a cage across the room. The animals went into a frenzy yapping, howling, and crowing in fright at the explosion.

The smoking, ruined lock on the shot cage fell off the hook and the cage door swung open. From the cage came a black and white Husky with deep blue eyes. It was probably a magnificent animal, but its thick black and white fur coat was shaggy and matted from lack of grooming and even plated with scabs from past fights and muddy from the dirt floor. The dog ran about, bellowing out a deep bark in confusion before darting over to the humans. Benji cussed and jumped on top of a large cage holding a Saint Bernard.

Larry shot at the dog, cussing loudly, but Michael slammed into the man, pinning him against the wall. Larry dropped his gun and punched Michael in the face, but Michael responded with three punches of his own, knocking the back of Larry's head into the rocky wall repeatedly. With a small groan, Larry sank to the ground unconscious. Michael remembered the Husky and spun around, ready to fight to keep the battle-trained dog off his throat. But the Husky wasn't focused on him: it was focused on _Benji_.

"Nice doggy, nice doggy, nice doggy!" Benji yipped, shifting about uneasily on top of the wired cage to keep away from the Husky. The Husky barked and jumped, trying to climb up onto the cage to get at Benji. Below him, the Bernard slunk low to the ground, pulling its lips back in a terrifying display of its teeth.

"Well," Michael laughed, "I'm seeing all kinds of irony here, Benji."

"Help me out!" Benji yelled, "I told you about Izago, I'll let you live, what more do you want??"

"I want you to stop this _disgusting_ sport you call a business for good," Michael replied, looking about at the caged animals, "And I want you to promise and follow through that every animal here will get good homes."

"Fine, fine, deal!"

"Oh, and one more thing…" Michael said, drawing the picture from his pocket, "Where was this taken?"

Benji leaned forward and squinted to look at the picture and jumped back when the Husky jumped up and almost got his throat. Some of the wires of the cage top creaked and snapped, making him sink a few inches. The Bernard snarled, hitching energetically on its haunches. Just a few more wires and Benji's foot would go right into the dog's waiting mouth.

"That's—that's the Aladdin's Bar," Benji replied. "I went there with Izago once for an amateur photo shoot. We ran off when these weirdoes kept trying to get me to smoke something and telling me about seeing things from other people's eyes. Please man, for the love of god help me!"

Michael tucked the picture back in his pocket.

"_Try snapping your fingers and yelling for the dog to heel,"_ Spencer said. _"Most dog fighters are too impatient to teach the dog orders in anything fancy."_

"HEEL!" Michael bellowed, snapping his fingers.

Like someone had pressed the Mute button, all the animals in the room fell silent. The Husky left Benji, coming over to sit in front of Michael and look up at him, awaiting orders. With a relieved squeak, Benji dropped down from the cage. The Bernard snorted, as if disappointed in being unable to take its revenge.

At that moment, the cellar door opened and several people poured down into the cellar. Most were Animal Services agents, but among them was a camera crew.

"Hi, Animal Cops Utah," one of the camera men said to Michael, "What's the story?"

"You are _not_ using me in a show," Michael warned, putting up a hand to cover his face.

"Anonymous tipster; got it."

"Well, well, well, Benji," one particular brawny man with a handle bar mustache sneered at Benji, "It looks like it's finally your turn to go to the dog pound."

"Hi, Mike," Benji sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Those two know each other?" Michael asked the camera man as Mike and Benji began to exchange dramatic dialogue filled with dog and pound references.

"Like the fisherman and the Big One That Got Away," the camera man confirmed, "It's great for ratings. Okay, if you're not going to let us use you in the show, then can you at least tell us what happened that way we can tell our viewers what happened here?"

"Well, I was just walking with my dog, um, Balto, here, when I thought I heard barking," Michael explained.

"_Wait, 'my dog'?"_ Sarah asked.

"All the way out here in the middle of nowhere?" the camera man asked.

"He and I like to take nice long runs. And our car isn't parked too far away."

"_Michael, did I hear you right?"_

"He seems kind of dirty…"

"He rolled around in some road kill. I'm gonna wash him when we get home."

"Ah. Continue."

"_Michael, you're not doing what I think you're doing, are you?"_

"So, Balto and I come over here, hoping to get a drink, when I think I hear barking."

"_We don't have the time to take care of a dog! It needs to be played with, walked, fed, watered, cleaned up after…"_

"Suddenly, Balto sprints over to the barn and I follow and find him digging at this door in the floor."

"_And if it's not potty trained, I'm flat out taking it to the pound."_

"_SARAH!!"_ Billy, Cadge, and Spencer shouted.

"So I haul up the door, come down here, see what's going on, and called Animal Services up."

"What happened to _these_ guys?"

"They were down here and I know karate."

"Ah, gotchya."

"_WE ARE NOT KEEPING A DOG!!"_

"_YES WE ARE!"_ Cadge shouted back, surprising everyone.

Michael made a motion as if he were scratching his ear, but actually turned the ear bud off. He answered a few more questions for the show, made sure that they knew _not_ to reveal his face or identity, keeping him an anonymous tipster. Meanwhile, the Animal Services and soon, cops, came to the cellar and its bonus animal storage room, taking pictures and video footage of everything before they hauled the human thugs out, followed by the animal cages. When Michael was done, he carried the Husky up the ladder and exited the barn. Outside were several white and red Animal Services vans and trucks and police cars, but no Kitt.

_Weird, didn't Benji drive Kitt here?_ Michael thought, making the ear-scratching motion again and turning on his ear bud.

"Kitt, are you there?" Michael asked, looking around to make sure no one was watching.

The Husky looked up at Michael as if to ask, _"Who_ are _you_ talking to??"

"_I am, Michael,"_ Kitt replied. _"I am behind the barn. I have disguised myself in pick up truck form."_

"Great, how did you get away from Benji and his thugs?" Michael asked. To the Husky, he began to trot off, calling, "Come on, boy!"

"_I am not coming to you, Michael_," Kitt replied.

The dog followed Michael as he trotted away from Benji's place.

"No, not you, Kitt, I have a new pet," Michael replied. "I was thinking of calling him Balto, but that's been taken."

"_Is having a dog in your profession wise, Michael?"_

"How did you get away from Benji?"

"_When Sarah told me that she had phoned animal services, I moved behind the barn and changed shape to hide. The other perpetrators' cars are on the other side of the house."_

Coming behind the barn, Michael saw Kitt in his black pick up truck form waiting for him. Michael opened the passenger door first, waving for the Husky to hop in before shutting the door behind the dog and going around and getting in Kitt's driver's seat. Kitt started up and drove off, casually driving among the other Animal Services and justice up-holding vehicles as he made his way to the main road.

"Sarah will not approve of the dog, Michael," Kitt informed. "And what made you choose him?"

The dog sat rigid in the passenger seat, ears on end, as it stared at the orb in Kitt's dashboard, clearly thinking of more than one explicative to describe the situation of a talking truck. No one was looking for intelligence in a dog, though, and merely ignored the surprised look on the canine's face.

"Ah, I kind of like the guy," Michael said, drawing the picture from his back pocket. "Here, scan this and send it to headquarters. That should occupy Sarah."

The Husky tilted his head to the side curiously as a panel in Kitt's dashboard flipped up. Michael set the picture down in the space beneath and the panel shut, glowing from with in. The dog leaned forward to sniff the panel, but reared back when it glows.

Now on the open road, they were safe from prying eyes.

"Shall I resume my transforming sequence to Mustang form, Michael?"

"Go for it, Kitt, just make sure that our new four-legged pal doesn't leave a present on your seat," Michael said, sitting back in his seat.

"_You_ should make sure he doesn't 'leave a present' or _you_ will be walking," Kitt warned before transforming into his main car form.

The Husky jumped up, standing in the chair, and began to bark loudly at the car in a wild panic. As quick as it had started, though, the parts settled and stopped moving.

"Ah shut up and get used to it," Michael told the dog.

- - - -

"No," Sarah told Michael. "No, no, no, no, no, no and NO! We _can't_ have a dog! It's too dangerous!"

"Please, Sarah, please?" Billy begged.

"I'll be responsible with it!" Cadge said; a contradiction in itself.

"We need a mascot anyway," Spencer pointed out.

"No," Sarah snapped. "Who is going to take care of it, anyway?"

Spencer, Michael, and Billy raised their hands. Cadge and Kitt raised their hoods in a hand-up gesture. The meeting taking place in FLAG's lair was not going well for Sarah.

"Well, at least let me show you him, first," Michael pleaded.

"Fine," Sarah sighed.

Michael opened Kitt's door and beckoned for the Husky to come out. It did and the others couldn't help but coo and mutter in admiration. Kitt and Michael had managed to get the dog to a groomer and fix him up and now he looked dog show-worthy. His fur had been washed and brushed, removing all mats, shags, scabs, and mud, making the dog's fur as white as snow and black as Kitt's own paint job. A saddle-like patch was on the dog's back, stretching up the back of its neck and head and running in a stripe on top of his tail and spilling down the outer sides of his thighs. Michael had gotten the dog a loose red leather collar, something comfortable and fashionable for the dog.

On the collar were some tags, which Sarah stooped to look at, but was instead attacked by a flurry of doggy tongue love. In spite of her protests of having a dog, she giggled and petted the dog before examining the tags. Her smile turned down quickly.

"This is an address for my house," Sarah stated.

"In case he gets lost," Michael replied, "And the license registry wouldn't accept 'secret lair under random hangar in the desert' as an address."

"No tracker chip? Good, I won't have to kill you for the disastrous security breach."

She squinted at the last license and her shoulders slumped as she shot a look up at Michael.

"Nevada?" she asked. "Really?"

"I _was_ going for something else, but the license girl got it spelled all wrong," Michael said falsely.

"Bull shit, that's not funny."

"It's funny," Cadge snickered.

"Nevada, Nevada Incident," Spencer chuckled.

"Michael named the dog after the Nevada Incident as it indirectly led us to the dog," Kitt explained, as if there were someone who didn't get the joke. "Had there been no Nevada Incident, there would be no sentient machines to make us go Benji's home and find the dog."

"We get it, Kitt!" Cadge exclaimed. "Sheesh; I gotta put you in front of some dirty comedy films again to fix your sense of humor."

The dog looked about, tail wagging and tongue hanging out. He looked happy enough, but still seemed to be asking, "Holy crap, what kind of crowd of crazies are _you_? Hot chick, but I see a nerd, a giant, a pretty boy ass kicker, and two talking cars. What. The. Hell."

"Well, back to business," Sarah said, standing. "We scanned the picture and found out where this bar is at: It's in some back alley in Boston, a real hole-in-the-wall kind of deal. But watch out; there are _tons_ of pot heads and hippies in that area. You're gonna need a gas mask or something when you go there looking for Zoe and Ms. Wild."

"Alright, but first, let's get Nevada settled in. Eh, you'd like that little guy? I bet you would like to have your own nice bed instead of a nasty cage, right?"

Michael started speaking normal, but ended with a baby-tone voice as he bent over and petted Nevada.

The dog barked, telling him, "Okay, feel free to talk to me like a retard, just as long as you keep the food bowl full".

Michael got Billy to help him haul out the dog supplies he had bought while Nevada had been getting groomed: a doggy bed, toys, food, a dog care book, some house hold medicines (just in case), and a small booklet of pro-animal help tips and phone numbers. As Billy and Michael set up a place for the Husky in Michael's room, Nevada decided to explore his new home.

Whatever his nose and eyes told him, he already knew: This place was jacked up. Underground some random hangar in the middle of the desert, he could smell blood, gun metal, and chemicals _all_ over the place. This must have been some high-human place before it became the hangout for the small group of humans he had just met. Near the pretty human's room, he smelled sex, and _a lot_ of it with the human that had adopted him, Michael. Michael was a weird one, talking to himself like some deranged parrot or Chihuahua, but hey, whatever kept the dog's stomach full, right? Nevada had learned to take what he got as it was given to him and adapt to what he didn't like.

As Nevada explored the base, he unintentionally passed right by the garage where Jake Nelson's car, or what was left of it, was parked. Ruby, Equinox, Wayne, and Li'le Terror were still residing in the garage. Cadge was taking a nap here. Li'le Terror, curious about the furry animal, rolled up to Nevada and beeped a greeting. Nevada turned and tilted his head as he looked down at Li'le Terror. He sniffed at the toy truck and it backed up, making a giggle-like noise in its tiny motor. Nevada chased after the toy truck, into the garage and right under Wayne. Nevada finally pounced on the toy truck and began tapping his teeth on the toy in a vain attempt to chew it and wound up tickling Li'le Terror. Li'le Terror's tires bounced off the floor as a tiny, audible laughter came from it.

Suddenly, Jake Nelson's car buzzed loudly as it started fired up, then began to clank loudly and suddenly roared to life. Nevada barked and jumped up, backing away and under the tank and Li'le Terror followed him. Ruby and Equinox beeped in surprise and Wayne aimed his gun barrel at the scrapped car.

"_What_ the…?" he muttered.

A moment later, the humans came running into investigate the noise.

"What the _hell_--?" Sarah exclaimed when they came to the garage.

Cadge muttered something incoherently as he woke up.

As the scraped car's engine continued running, words formed, first as faint accents, then heavily electronic sounds, then the familiar, strange accent of a sentient car.

"Damnit, where the hell am I!?" it yelled in a male voice, "What happened? Where's Jake? Someone better answer me before I— Oww!!"

The car made something go too far and, with a small burst of sparks, a metal part fell from his under carriage.

"Oh my god…" Sarah whispered. "It's sentient."


	9. Negado

**Disclaimer: I do not own Knight Rider or any attached blessings to it. Neither do I own any additionally mentioned culture references, locations, songs, et cetera.**

**Chapter 9: Negado**

"It's sentient? How the hell did _that_ happen?" Spencer asked.

"He must have dodged getting the reversal broadcast, just like Izago," Michael said.

"Well, let's see if we can fix it up…" Billy said, grabbing a tool box from the tool chests and carefully approaching the car, currently raised off of the floor by its lift.

"Get the _hell away from me!!"_ the car yelled, spinning its wheels as fast as it could, but getting no where.

"Well, looks like Billy has it under control, shall we go?" Sarah asked quickly.

"Huh? Wait, what?" Billy asked, turning back to his friends.

"Oh, yeah, he's got it," Michael agreed.

"Yeah, have fun making friends, Billy!" Spencer called.

The other humans hastily left the garage, leaving Billy alone to deal with the angry sentient car with an audience of other sentient vehicles (and a dog) to watch his efforts. He looked over to the audience for advice. Equinox rumbled something and he and Ruby rolled off to go to the far side of the garage, humming a random tune. Nevada decided that he should go look for an escape route now from this mad house and took off for the door with Li'le Terror on his heels. Wayne remained with his gun on the raised car. Cadge remained parked where he was, probably watching the show. Suddenly, his front bumper lifted up at the corners as all his lights glowed in a smile.

"ZOMG, you're alive really!" he exclaimed.

"Huh-wha--?" the crashed car asked.

Cadge scooted forward to look up lovingly at the car.

"I _knew_ you were alive, I just knew it, but I thought you died because of the crash Wayne has one of heck of a bunch, eh? My name's Cadge, Wayne Boomer's the tank, that's Equinox and Ruby over there and this is Billy; oh my gosh, you're alive, yay, yay, yay I love sentient machines and I gotta tell you that if weren't for being strung up like a prized fish and being more trashed then a college frat boy after a toga party, you'd be a _beautiful_ car and I think I love you—"

"_Shut up!"_ the car bellowed back.

Sighing in annoyance at being left with the trouble of caring for an injured, angry car, Billy rolled up his sleeves and approached the black, broken-up car. He pulled over a stool and stood up on it, reaching for the under carriage. Suddenly, the entire car rumbled with another snarling engine roar, scaring Billy off his stool and making him fall back onto the floor with a yip. Cadge's tentacles snapped out and caught Billy.

"Try that again and I'll use your blood for lubricants, human!" the car snarled.

"Oh, come on!" Billy complained, getting to his feet. "Really? Really? Did you _really_ have to use the race card?"

"Yes!"

"Screw you!"

"After I do it to you in your ugly little exhaust port!"

"Oh, now that is just _nasty--_!"

"Wait—are those _tentacles_?" the car asked, "What the hell are you doing with tentacles!?"

Billy snarled as he threw his wrench down, "My aunt's Chihuahua is better tempered than _this_ hunk of junk!"

"Hunk of junk!?" the car roared. "You obviously haven't done your research on my model of car! I'm one of the fastest things on wheels!"

"It doesn't matter how fast you go when your wheels aren't even on the ground, and _your_ trashed half way to hell," Billy teased with a smirk.

The car spun his tires in a vain attempt to move, whistling unhappily, but it of course got him no where.

"Your back tires aren't moving," Cadge commented, "And your front ones keep wobbling."

"Well, that tends to happen when you get blown up by a _tank_. Ugh, my _engine_…"

"Well, if you'll just sit still and be a good boy, my friends and I will fix you up," Billy said.

"Get your self scraped," the car growled.

"Ugh, I'm going to go get a drink," Billy grumbled. "_No one_ can work like this sober."

When the human had gone, Cadge remained staring up at the prisoner car. After a long moment, the car's wheels shifted nervously.

"Well, what are you staring at?" the car asked.

"What's your name and model?" Cadge asked.

"For real?"

"What?"

"Never mind, I'm not telling you."

"Why not?" Cadge asked. He was being his immature self now.

"Because I don't want to tell you."

"Why?"

"Because I don't."

"Why?"

"Because I _don't_, damnit! Leave me alone!"

"I can fix you up a little if you'll tell me your name and model," Cadge said slyly. He drew out his tentacles to show that he _could_ do it, too.

"Cadge," Wayne growled, "I don't think that that's a good idea."

"Oh, we can just fry him to hell again if he tries anything," Cadge assured.

Some how, such a simple threat coming from someone as silly as Cadge only made the threat more scary.

Wayne thought a moment then turned his gun barrel a little in a sort of shrug.

"Eh, guess you gotta point," he agreed.

The prisoner car was silent as he thought.

"How much _would_ you fix me up?" he asked.

- - - -

"My car's _what?"_ Jake Nelson screamed.

"Okay, either you're an over reactor, or you're a sucky actor," Sarah said, rubbing her head. "Your car is sentient, from the Nevada Incident, did you know this?"

"Hey, I just passed by a _corner_ of Nevada during that, I didn't even know what was going on until I got home and watched the TV! Holy crap, my car is _sentient_?? I _knew_ there was something weird about it parking itself all the time, and how I got home even when I was passed out!"

"Alright, then, moving on: What do you know about the Genie?"

"The who?"

"The Genie; what do you know about him?"

"You mean the blue dude from _Aladdin_?"

"I don't know, you tell me."

"Is this some sort of interrogation tactic?"

"Our friends have been kidnapped by him and hired you, so what do you know about him?"

"Dude, I never heard of the Genie before. Is he granting wishes?"

Sarah smacked a hand to her face.

- - - -

"Alright, now that you got the dog settled in and I've been able to do some more research," Sarah told the humans in the lair later, "I think now that it's best for Spencer to go with Michael and Kitt. The reason being that at the place around Aladdin's Bar isn't exactly one of the safest places and people have gone missing around there… I've also got an inkling of who the Genie is.

"I've looked around and found that the Genie is a rising star in drug rings. Apparently, he's a genius with herbs and can 'program' scenarios with his drugs, so if you use them, you experience an extremely realistic hallucination _he_ designed. For this, he's called the Genie because he can make you experience anything you wish for the right price. No one knows who exactly he is or where he comes from because he's always dressed in turquoise winter gear and never speaks of his past, but he's really strong and has a really bad temper."

"So the Genie's up to something with Zoe and Ms. Wild and power-ups, can mind-control people with drugs, has the attention of Izago the Ferrari, and is the Hulk," Cadge summarized.

Billy and Michael snickered and Sarah sighed and face palmed.

Nevada trotted by, proudly carrying Li'le Terror in his mouth. Li'le Terror was chuckling quietly, enjoying the ride. Everybody stared as he went by, but went back to their meeting.

"So Spencer is going to go with you as back up," Sarah told Michael, "Spencer, you up for it?"

"Hell yeah!" Spencer whooped, clenching his fists.

"Aww, why can't I go?" Billy whined.

"Because you're a weak nerd," Spencer said, elbowing Billy. "Just stay here and take our messages, okay, kid?"

"Aww, I wanna go on a mission!" Cadge whined.

"We need you here to keep an eye on the prisoner car, Cadge--" Sarah explained.

"His name's Negado and he's a Chrysler," Cadge interrupted. "I repaired a couple parts in him to make him tell me."

"You _repaired_ him?" Sarah demanded.

"Only a little!" Cadge exclaimed, "And it was just for his name and model!"

"Well, alright, but don't do it anymore," Sarah scolded.

"Anyway," she went on, "Spencer can go because he knows how to fight. He can fend for himself and watch Michael's back, which reminds me…"

She wandered off, calling for Nevada. Michael and Spencer exchanged looks.

"Well, shall we be off?" Michael asked.

"Sure," Spencer agreed.

- - - -

Zoe kicked at the door, now more out of boredom than actually trying to get out. Her and Wild's cell was a windowless metal room with a single large, bare light bulb that turned on and off to signal the passing days. Twice a day someone would shove a microwave meal through a slot at the foot of their door. They had been patient with the ordeal, but Zoe was getting more and more bored by the hour. Wild was just sitting in the corner, trying to hide her terror with dignity.

"Zoe, sweetie," Wild sighed, "You're going to break your foot at this rate."

"Gah, I'm bored!" Zoe proclaimed, turning and padding over to Wild in her bare feet. "How long will it take until those guys come rescue us?"

"They'll get us, in their own time," Wild assured, "Trust me."

"Well, let's just hope they come before anyone here decides that they want a woman snack," Zoe said with a shiver. "Holy crap, did you see--?"

"Yes, Zoe, I saw," Wild cut in quickly, "And it's nothing I want to dwell on for too long."

"Well, just in case the freak guards _do_ want a woman snack, let me show you how to crush a windpipe…"


	10. Vivaaaaaaaa

**Disclaimer: I do not own Knight Rider or any attached blessings to it. Neither do I own any additionally mentioned culture references, locations, songs, et cetera.**

**Chapter 10: Vivaaaaaaa….**

"What? Some of the Silver Shells were killed? Why wasn't I told this earlier!?" Jake exclaimed.

"Because I honestly thought that we had milked the information out of you," Sarah growled, "But your car is a sentient machine, and past experience says that if you work with a thing made out of metal that talks, they're hiding something, so start telling me everything you _really_ know, or else."

"Or else what?" Jake snapped.

Sarah held up Li'le Terror by his roof part.

"Oh, what? What are you gonna do with that? Run circles around my feet until I talk?"

Sarah squeezed the toy monster truck and it obediently began to spin its tires as fast as it could. She shoved the tires against the bare skin of Jake's lower arm and he drew back with a pained yell at the rub burn.

"The next places will be your face and then your crotch, so unless you want to wear a diaper for the next year, you better start talking," Sarah growled.

"Oww, damnit, okay, okay!" Jake exclaimed, rubbing his red arm, "Okay, I swear to you on my mother's grave that I have no idea about the guys who kidnapped your friends or that my car was sentient, but I _do_ know of this underground movement, or urban legend, or whatever…"

He took a deep breath and continued, "I over heard you guys mentioning going after someone called the Genie, and let me tell you: Don't do it. The Genie, from what I heard, is this whacko who used to be in an loony bin until he escaped, and now runs around trying to make some sort of elixir or power up or something just for shits and giggles. The story varies: He wants immortality, he wants to make people vampires, he's a demon baby that killed his family in a splash of gore and flames, blah, blah, blah. But there're some things I _know_ are real because they pop up in every story: He's really strong, has a freakish understanding of plants, has a real bad temper, and can't reveal his skin to the sun or he gets burned.

"The Genie… people keep mentioning him all over the place," Sarah muttered, setting Li'le Terror down and looking away, "A thief mentioned him before getting killed. A car said that he had to stop the Genie from screwing things up, now this about him being some master, insane herbalist? What _is_ he working on?"

"I don't know," Jake said, glancing down at Li'le Terror, "I also hear that people call him the Genie because he can make your wishes come true or something."

Sarah stared at Jake for a while before deciding something and taking a chance.

"Jake," she said, "Do you know who Izago is?"

Much to her surprise, Jake looked up at Sarah with a complete "oh crap" look on his face.

"Oh, hell, what did he do _this_ time?" he asked.

If Sarah had been drinking anything, she would be doing a spit take.

"What?" Sarah asked in disbelief. "How do you know him?"

"How do _you_ know him?" Jake shot back, "I've never seen him myself before, but other Silver Shells mention running into him on the roads sometimes. He races guys, butts into cop-and-crook chases and either draws in our takes away cops, and just generally… well, let's just say that I've heard stories, and most of 'em include women."

"We have reason to believe that Izago might be somehow involved in this Genie business," Sarah said, "Do you think you can help us find him?"

"Not really," Jake admitted, "He goes his own way. But rumor has it that he runs with a trio of Nissan racers that hang out in Las Vegas. Chances are if you find them, you'll find Izago."

- - - -

"Vivaaaa Las Vegas! Vivaaaa Las Vegas! Vivaaaaa, I say vivaaaa Las Vegaaaaaaaaaas!"

With the song finished, Cadge began singing again.

"For the love of god, Cadge, just _shut up_!" Michael yelled, to Kitt's ceiling.

Kitt was desperately trying to race ahead to Las Vegas and away from Cadge in their attempt to escape his ceaseless singing, but so far, the shape-shifting Porsche was keeping pace with them. Other motorists wondered how desperate they were to get to Las Vegas and they were gone before the Highway Patrol could even figure out what kind of car they were. Kitt was seriously contemplating using his EMP to shut Cadge down and abandon him.

"Uh, why am I here again?" Jake asked nervously from with in Cadge.

_ "So you can identify the Nissans when you see them,"_ Sarah told him through his wrist-strapped communicator locator. _"And remember: If you attempt to take the device off your wrist, it will zap you."_

"…I say vivaaaaaaa Las Vegas!" Cadge began again.

Michael turned on Kitt's radio and turned the volume up as loud as he could, attempting to escape Cadge's singing, but the sound dropped back down instantly.

"Michael," Kitt cautioned, "Such high volumes will burst your ear drums."

Michael groaned and began smacking his head into the driver's wheel.

A Kitt attempted to comfort Michael, Jake turned on Cadge's radio, wondering if _that_ would break the young car's concentration on singing.

_" Las Vegas!"_ a friendly voice shouted out, _"The temperatures are breaching triple digits and we're hotter than a sexy momma at a car wash, buy Bob 'Chill' Crackers is as cool as ice!"_

"Oh, sweet, I love this guy!" Jake commented, turning up the volume.

_"Alright, kiddies; for all of ya'll rolling on into the party capital of the world, make sure to get your walking shoes, 'cause the roads are gonna be closed from seven on tonight. The reason? Someone __finally__ clued the neon nation in that people like fast, fancy cars, and are trying out a new attraction where you get to watch some hot and heavy racing from the roofs. It's gonna be ti-ight! And if you're a little soulless and don't like cars exceeding break neck speeds and doing Fast-and-Furious, turns, that's alright; the Vegas has all sorts of fun stuff and people to do indoors…"_

"Perfect timing," Michael sighed as Chill went on, "The very day we go in looking for some racing cars, an entire _event_ springs up _around_ racing cars."

"Michael," Kitt ventured, "I am rethinking my earlier comment about luck and coincidences."

"Yeah, what do you think now?"

"I think… that some coincidences are a little _too_ coincidental to be sensible."

"Story of my life, Kitt. Story of my life…"


	11. Like the F&F

**Disclaimer: I do not own Knight Rider or any attached blessings to it. Neither do I own any additionally mentioned culture references, locations, songs, et cetera.**

**Chapter 11: Like the F&F**

Everyone's seen a glimpse of Las Vegas at least once in their life times, whether they were actually in it or it was on TV: in the day, it was a colorful city and enjoyable. But once the sun went down, the difference between the day and night life was as radical as winter time Russia and spring time Amazon. Neon lights flared to life, people in all sorts of strange costumes strutted up and down the streets, advertising shows and events, each more fantastical and fun than the last. Visitors would try their best to keep from loosing their heads, but it wouldn't take long until the drinks and fun had them scooping out every penny from their pockets in a high-riding game of chance.

Tonight, police patrolled the streets, cleaning them off of pedestrians. Concrete barriers had been put up on some of the busiest streets to protect passer by from future speeders. Cars were parked or towed off the road and people scrambled for spots on the roofs with video camera to tape some of the action. After all, it isn't too often that you get to see legal bad-ass racing (NASCAR doesn't count).

It didn't take too much digging on Sarah's and Billy's part to find out that, of course, the entire racing event was fake: The cars were reinforced with hidden frames and the drivers were stunt men professionals who couldn't crash even if they wanted to and were drunk. The cars even had an emergency remote control system, so in case anything went wrong, people with remotes watching from helicopters in the air could simply take control of the cars and drive them somewhere else. It shouldn't be too surprising: No one in their right mind would allow legal street racing. Well, that is, unless you were from somewhere as bad ass as the south or Europe, but anyway…

"Alright," Michael said, re-stating the goals Sarah had left them with before going back to checking on Negado, "We humans are going to get up on the roofs and see if we can spot the Nissans from there. Kitt, Cadge; you patrol the outer streets where there isn't any racing. We report to each other and regroup at the Nissans' location as soon as they're spotted, got that?"

Confirmations came from all around.

"Oh, and Cadge: Low profile."

"Ah hahahahaha!" A pause. "Oh, you're serious."

"Just get going," Michael groaned.

Kitt went west, Cadge went north, and Michael and Jake made their way to a near by casino with a giant blue orb light on top to head to its roof where viewing platforms had been set up for the faked race. Smoke, alcohol, sweat, city fumes, and sweet stuff could be smelled in the air and one could feel the building energy as people excitedly waited for the race to begin. Michael and Jake couldn't help but notice all the _lovely_ women strutting about with clothing made of less material than a common bath towel. They got to the roof and took to looking over different walls: Michael the west and Jake, the north. Michael didn't need to worry about Jake wandering off: If Jake wandered more than thirty feet from Michael the wristwatch-sized device strapped to his wrist would electrocute him. And the only thing that could get it off was either a welder or a certain code tapped into its interface.

To Michael's left were a group of young kids, probably not even out of high school yet. As Michael scanned the streets for any Nissan that _might_ be the ones Izago hanged out with, the kids got more and more annoying as they tried posing as gangsters for the video camera one of them was holding. Dialogue of their lameness would be shown, but one has a cap to cussing. It was when one of them started calling themselves the Gold Tooth Daddy that Michael face palmed and considered throwing one of them off the roof.

- - - -

"So, Kitt, what're we looking for?" Cadge asked.

"I do not know, Cadge," Kitt replied over the radio, "From what Jake has said, it appears that we are looking for three Nissans of noticeable color and engine capability, who like to race—"

Cadge stopped short in the middle of the street he was driving on with a screech of brakes. The SUV behind him stopped short and honked angrily before the driver maneuvered the luxury vehicle around Cadge. Cadge blasted his speakers as loud as possible so that his challenge echoed all around the block and made people jump and stare.

_ "YO!!"_ he shouted, _"I'M LOOKING FOR A RACE! WHO WANTS A PIECE OF ME?"_

People exchanged confused mutterings. Was the race starting already?

It didn't take long for Cadge's challenge to be answered. He heard the engines before they came, each with a different tone, and the engine owners came around the bend.

They were three near-identical compact Nissans of undetermined car model. Looking at them, it was easy to see that these cars had just been cheap, college-ride deals until someone had slapped skirts, spoilers, neon lights and racing stripes on them.

The leading car was dark blue with a narrow white stripe running along its top center with electric blue neon lights beneath and its engine purring like a cat.

The second car was golden yellow with one thick white stripe down both sides with golden neon lights and an engine noise like a rusting rattling gear.

The final car was a rich, true green with a white stripe along only its driver side. Its neon lights flickered between laser green and an amethyst purple that matched its headlights of the same color. Its engine was wavering in the upper tones, as if trying to sing to the muffled song emitting from with in the car.

Cadge may have been a Half-Life—a machine created sentient by humans—but he knew his stuff enough to know that _these_ cars were sentient. He could hear it in their engines, see it in their paint gloss, feel it in their aura; it was just something he _knew_, like how someone can tell the different between and awkward and a normal silence. He knew of only one incident that could create true-blue living cars; the Nevada Incident. It was surprising, really, to realize exactly how many vehicles had escaped the reversal of that day…

"So," Cadge said, dropping his volume to casual, "What're your names?"

"What'd ya want with them?" the golden yellow car snarled.

"I prefer not to race strangers," Cadge replied with a smirk in his voice. "I'm Cadge."

"Neos," the dark blue car responded calmly, drawing British chivalry to Cadge's computer mind.

"Deos," the golden-yellow car grunted. Something about his gravely voice made Cadge thought of Roman warriors.

"Ethos!" the true-green and purple car yipped. For some reason, in spite of lack of an accent, Cadge got France.

"So, now that we're not strangers any more…" Cadge suddenly spun around, tossing rubber burn smoke in the Nissans' front grilles as he skidded to face north and have them all face the same direction, "Ready to race?"

By standers whistled in approval; they were getting excited now. To them, the dialogue was just a show actors were putting up with vocals and speakers. They couldn't see in side the windows to look at the drivers and frankly, didn't want to; the mystery driver and electronic quality of the voices made it all so exciting and mysterious! People gathered and video taped the "performance", and the cars couldn't care less about them.

"You sure got a lot of nerve for showing up like this, Brittney," Deos snarled as he and his comrades rolled into a straight line.

"Brittney?" Cadge asked, amused.

"Yeah!" Ethos snickered, "Like, you're a rich brat girl's _college ride_, man! You're all, tee hee, _sparkly_ and _silver_ and stuff!"

"Oh, yes, that," Cadge said, "Didn't I mention that this is just my day-time appearance?"

Before the Nissans could ask, a loud clang went off in Cadge's engine and he hitched up on his front wheels as he transformed. He shrank somewhat. A spoiler's legs leaped from his trunk area and connected into the middle for the full item. The roof gained an inch or two, the front hood became a sharp corner and not a smooth nose. The silver paint glittered briefly before darkening into a jagged blue and yellow paint job splitting the vehicle. The head lights flashed on with a yellow glow and blue neon lights flickered to life in the shadows beneath the car. As a final touch, like a creature flexing its scales as it wakes up, the rims unfolded and turned, becoming ninja-star spinners.

The "rich brat girl's college ride" Porsche had become a road-raging Acura NSX.

People shouted and cheered in approval, absolutely loving Las Vegas' magic. The Nissans stalled in complete shock at the unforeseen change.

"We will need a starting girl," Cadge announced, "You, the pretty lass in pink, will you start us off?"

A young and small girl with curled brown hair and dressed in a shapeless, short pink dress and knee-high platform boots eagerly trotted out to stand in front and in a gap between the cars with her friends cheering her on and taking pictures from the sidewalk. Up the street, people saw the scene and bolted for the sidewalk.

"Uh, hey, where are we racing to, anyway?" Deos grunted.

"Mmmm, the building with the blue orb on top, over there."

"I see it," Neos confirmed.

The other two cars revved their engine in agreement.

"Ready!" the girl cried, putting her arms out to her sides.

People cheered and cameras flashed.

"Set!" she shouted, putting her hands over her head.

The cars revved their engines and flashed their head lights.

"GO!"

The girl shouted, kneeling as she flung her hands down. The cars took off on either side of her, sending her hair flying as they passed mere inches from her, and the race was on.

- - - -

_"Base camp, this is Officer Mick, we have a problem."_

"This is base camp to Officer Mick, what's your status, Mick?"

_"I know we got this faked race especially set up for tourism, but, uh, we got a real race going on."_

"WHAT!?"

_"Apparently, a bunch of Nissans and an Acura are using the streets __we__ cleared to make like Fast and Furious. Finish line is undetermined."_

"Oh, it just _figures_, the _one_ night we manage to shut the streets down for the best live show Las Vegas has seen since strippers, and some hot rods steal it! Quick, shut them down before—"

A new voice burst in on the radio conversation:_ "Hey yo, Vegas veggies and casino kids! We got ourselves a race!"_

"Too late."

- - - -

The shadow of a helicopter zipped by low over the roof tops, tossing peoples' hair about as it rushed to follow the race and narrate it.

_ "That's right, we got ourselves a race between three supped-up Nissans and one awfully familiar Acura NSX—hey, it's the same car that went rogue and ditched its drivers at the Technology Shamroo last year! Hey, yo, li'le runaway, nice to see ya still rolling! How's the Oliver Twist thing going for ya? Watch out for that turn; going straight or left is gonna put ya in a shopping mall—ooh, nice skid to the right! But can ya make the next turn just up ahead? Yeap, and not even touching the sidewalk! Dude, someone tell the green and purple car to pull over, he almost took out that trash can! But man, is that blue car running __smooth__…"_

Michael and Jake exchanged looks when they heard all of this on stereo someone had brought to the roof.

"Looks like Cadge's found our cars," Jake announced.

- - - -

As the cars raced, Bob "Chill" Crackers narrated to all of Las Vegas.

_ "Alright, the Acura's first, followed by Blue, Yellow, and Green and—dude, don't even play with me like that, drive straight! Man, Green's jacked up or __something,__ 'cause he ain't staying parallel to the sidewalk. Now Blue's taking the lead from Acura, but—hot sauce! Here comes a new contender, a hot and spicy black Mustang. Hey, I know that dude! That's—that's the dude who did that stuff and that one place that one time! Holy cow! You still alive?_

_ "Yow! That Mustang means __business__ 'cause he's getting __all__ up in Yellow's and Yellow ain't happy! Wham! Yellow slams sides with the Mustang in an attempt to knock the invader off the road—not cool, yo, bad sportsman ship! Boo! But, hey, Green's making a surprise come back by rocketing between the two and getting up on the other side of the Acura! Man, it's good that streets are wide enough to hold yo mama's fanny, eh?_

_ "But, aww! Here comes the __cops__! Dude, who called the bacon wagons? We got, let's see, one, two—one, three—erk, stop moving! Ah, screw it, there's a lot. We got cops swarming __everywhere__, quick, someone call an exterminator 'cause we got an __infestation__! They're in front of the race, behind the race, __in__ the race, and now __on__ the race! One cop just went __flying__ over a bump (when pigs fly!) and is doing some car porn on the back of Blue. Yellow comes to rescue of Blue by coming forward and swatting the cop car off and –ooh! Crashed cop stops two more!_

_ "What the--? Dude! The Mustang just flashed like a girl for Madrigal beads and the other four cops just __stopped__! He got an EMP thing going on or something? That leaves three extremely unlucky bastards to take five cars down. Huh? Blue, Yellow, and Green are pulling back and letting the Acura and Mustang take the lead! The cops are going after the colors and—oh, I see! Yellow and Green swing out to either side to knock the cops out of the running and Blue induces a near-death experience by slamming on his brakes and getting his stuff in the last cop's __face!_

_ "With the cops out of the picture—and in __record__ time, mind you; trust me, this is what I do for a living—the Blue, Green, and Yellow make for a come back! Blue comes around the Acura and Mustang's left, Green on their right, and Yellow looks like he's gonna muscle his way between them and slam them into a potential death trap! But there's a big-ass parking garage in front, a dead end at the _Blue Orb_ casino to the right and only one pathetically tiny street to their right! What are they gonna do? Are they gonna make it? Or are they—holy shit, they went into the parking garage!"_

- - - -

Everybody slammed on their brakes simultaneously, slipping and spinning about as they skidded to a halt just inside the parking garage, but before its gate. Burnt rubber perfumed the air and rubber smoke drifted up from _everybody's_ wheels. If they were organic, they would have all been panting. The garage guards in their small booth, having listened to the race on the radio, eagerly clamored for space at the booth's small window to see the end of the show.

Loud pops rang out—the sound of gun fire on a muffler—and the tires of the Nissans suddenly went flat with embarrassing squeak-whistles. The Nissans emitted confused engine rumbles as Michael and Jake came out from behind a pillar. Behind the pillar were two tow trucks.

"What is the meaning of this!?" Neos exclaimed.

"Kitt; truck form, hauling chain," Michael ordered, "Jake and I will hook up the other two. Cadge; put up a distraction for the cops. And you guys," he turned on the guards. "What'll it take to keep you from telling others what you saw?"

- - - -

A few minutes later, a ragged blue and yellow Ascari A10 leaped like a jungle panther from the parking garage, barging right past the massing police outside. Bystanders whooped and cheered at what they thought was still a show. The actual show men decided to make the best out of the worse situation and sent out their own acting racers. After all: The show _must_ go on.

As the actor-drivers, Ascari, and un-updated and confused cops caused mayhem and excitement on the main strips, Jake and Michael used their forcibly-rented tow trucks to pull Neos and Ethos out of the parking garage, towards a part of the town less known. Kitt followed in pickup truck form, towing Neos.

They found their way to a small fenced-in car lot where unwanted junk cars had been left. The FLAG team got tire locks from the two trucks and put them on the Nissans before unhooking them from Kitt and trucks, all in a line facing them. A streetlamp lit the other-wise dark and abandoned lot. The mood in the air was that of stubborn prisoners facing interrogation with their captors.

"It's a simple deal," Michael told them, "You tell us the full, unaltered, unhindered truth, and we'll fix your tries and let you be on your war. Kapeesh?"

Silence.

"Hey," Jake noted, picking up a long lead pipe off the roof of an abandoned car, "_this_ looks useful…"

"What do you want to know?" Neos asked reluctantly.

"What do you know a Ferrari called Izago and a man called the Genie?" Michael asked.

"Izago?" Ethos asked, "Oh, yeah, him, nice guy. He helps us get street credit if we back him up with stuff. Lately, he's been on this real tight personal project to go after some whack job called the Genie. Doesn't say why, or who the guy is. All I know is that the Genie's some shmuck Izago's taking down, personal-like."

"Izago disappeared about a week ago, saying that he was going to sneak into the Genie's lamp and destroy him from the inside out," Neos continued. "I take that that means he knows how to infiltrate what ever society the Genie is building up around him and is gonna take out the guy from the inside."

"Man, I've seen Izago whacky before," Deos grunted, "But seeing him talk about the Genie like that made him serious… and if you don't like Izago when he's whacky, you'll be terrified of him when he's serious."

"How does he know of the Genie? How did he track him down?" Michael asked.

"We don't know to both questions," Neos answered, "Izago would just appear once in a while, tell us to cause some mischief here or there, and he would disappear and do his own thing. If we did well enough of a job, he would spread the word about us around a little and get us street credit."

"Who and what _are_ you, anyway?" Jake asked.

"We're the Nissan Nuisances," Neos replied, "I'm Neos, this is Deos, and Ethos. We were impounded racers being transported through Nevada when the Nevada Incident happened. When he heard of the machines coming to life, the transport trucker tore out of the state so fast that the straps came undone and we rolled right off the truck. We got out of there before we could get picked up again, _or_ receive the reversal broadcast of the airwave that made us sentient."

"Wait, if you were on a _truck_, doesn't that mean that the _truck_ was sentient, too?" Jake asked, "And how do you keep your gas full and stuff?"

"We don't know about the truck; never saw it or the driver again," Neos said dismissively. "As for mechanical maintenance, well, let's just say that Deos can be very _persuasive_ to people."

"You don't mean—"Michael began, feeling his stomach flutter.

"Deos _sings_!" Ethos sang.

"Shaddup!" Deos whined, embarrassed, "I just play a nice song I mix up myself in my radio, and when the humans are close enough, I talk to 'em to fill us up, that's all!"

"You seem more like the type to _threaten_," Kitt commented.

"Deos is a master of words," Neos said fondly, "And friendship works better than fear. You would do well to remember that next time you want to talk, _humans_."

The last word had uncharacteristic venom aimed at Jake and Michael.

"Sorry," Michael said, shrugging apologetically, "It's how I roll. Okay, Jake, I saw a tire store just on the corner. We can run over, buy some real fast, and get these guys fixed before Cadge adds a new landmark to Las Vegas."

"Nice," Jake snickered, following Michael.

When the humans had left, Kitt decided to attempt a final step.

"Don't you have _any_ idea as to where Izago has gone?" he pleaded, "The lives of some of our friends are at stake."

"Who're the friends?" Deos grunted.

"A couple of human females by the name of Zoe and Ms. Rebecca Wild," Kitt answered, "It appears that the Genie has kidnapped them in direct link to our intrusion of his matters when we stopped a thief carrying dud power ups that he created. We have no idea how much time the girls have left before they are disposed of and hence, time is of the essence."

The cars were quiet briefly before they began to communicate in Machine: The language of flashing lights and engine noises that made up a sentient machine's native vocabulary. But being an emotionally distant Half-Life, Kitt was not native and could only catch snatches of the conversation and its feelings. Empathy, girls, sympathy, are they pretty, suspicion, agreement. They finally returned to English.

"Well," Neos said hesitantly, "Izago _did_ mention a place called _Aladdin's Bar_, and unofficial, hole-in-the-wall bar where the Genie appears to frequent to pick up supplies for whatever he does. We can lead you to the town, but you are on your own from there."

"Thank you," Kitt sighed in relief, "Your help is most appreciated."

"Just please, and do us a favor?" Ethos pleaded.

"_Don't_ shoot our tires out like freaking target practice!" Deos bellowed, using a worse word in place for "freaking".


	12. Ambush

**Disclaimer: I do not own Knight Rider or any attached blessings to it. Neither do I own any additionally mentioned culture references, locations, songs, et cetera.**

**Chapter 12: Ambush**

Michael's team settled down in a hotel for the night and almost everyone back at the base also went to sleep. Sarah was staying up late with Nevada the loyal Husky laying under the desk, waiting for her, when they received a call. The caller ID confirmed it as the Head of National Security; great, _another_ terrorist had to show up _now_?

Sarah answered the call and the voice of the Head came over the computer.

"_Sarah Graiman of the Federation of Law and Government?"_ he asked.

"What do you got, we're kind of busy," Sarah replied.

"_My department received an anonymous tip that your team has been interacting and working with illegal parties."_

Sarah did a double take and exclaimed, "What!?"

"_Well, Ms. Graiman, it is just as it says: You and your team have been working with the very people you should be putting out of commission."_

"That's ridiculous! My team and I have been busting our butts for the past three years to stop every terrorist and criminal the government has asked us to, thus avoiding massive lost of life, funds, and time. Why would we get rid of all of that by _working_ with criminals?"

"_Well, Ms. Graiman, your past record has shown traces of… less than firm terms of control in your federation. For example: Your team harbored an experimental bit of rogue machinery known as Cadge, which proceeded to aide the rogue machine terrorist, Karr, in its failed attempt at taking over the world."_

"Cadge was brain washed," Sarah argued, "He's a much more manageable, intelligent person now."

"_Manageable? Person?"_ the Head scoffed, _"Sarah Graiman, have you not looked at the news? Approximately two hours ago an Ascari A10 and an Acura NSX, both being the same car in different disguises, aided in completely disrupting a Las Vegas event in the form of a staged race. It burst in upon the staged race, illegally racing numerous other cars, including the Knight Industries Two Thousand, formally known as Kitt! Either get a hand on your equipment, Graiman, or the American government will be forced to shut you down!"_

The Head hung up. Sarah glared at the computer screen, clenching her fists as her eye brows furrowed up in anger. Nevada grumbled, but got up and licked Sarah's hand in comfort. Sarah knelt and petted Nevada, hugging him close as she stared off in thought.

_Crap,_ she realized, _I've been so busy trying to rescue Zoe and Rebecca that I forgot that there are other agencies watching for me to make a mistake. If Kitt and Cadge go on like they are, they'll wind up scrapped and the rest of us in jail. So if they see Kitt and Cadge rolling with the Nissan Nuisances…_

* * *

Kitt, Cadge, Michael, Jake, and the Nissan Nuisances were in a Las Vegas hotel parking lot when Sarah gave them the morning orders.

"You want us to _what_!?" Cadge exclaimed.

"_I want Michael and Jake to rent regular cars, or find some way of keeping under the radar,"_ Sarah instructed, _"The Head of National Security called me last night and told me if we step out of line again like Las Vegas last night, they're shutting us down. We're in the red from now on; one screw up and we'll be scrapped or in prison and Zoe and Wild are _never_ going to get rescued."_

"Scrapped!?" Cadge gasped.

"This sucks," Michael grunted, "Kitt and I _always_ do stuff together! And how can we take on Izago if he turns out to be a hostile?"

"Chill-ax, guys," Jake chuckled, "I know how to ride so that you can keep your rides _and_ avoid getting ruined."

"So do we," Neos added, "When you're a trio of self-driving cars, you tend to pick up a thing or two about keeping under the radar."

"Yeah," Ethos snickered, "It's easy! You just follow all the rules and you're invisible to the cops!"

"Even with _those_ paint jobs?" Kitt asked, clearly not believing Ethos.

"Yeah!" Ethos yipped, "There're so many clumsy student drivers, crazy women, and road rage guys wandering around, it gets easy! We just gotta look out for small towns where flashy cars are not the norm; _then_ the cops will stare."

"Alright! I stay flashy!" Cadge whooped, revving his engine happily. He was still in his Acura NSX form.

"Yeah, one more thing: _don't_ change shape from now own," Deos ordered, "It doesn't matter where you are, changing cars are _not_ normal."

"Aww!" Cadge whined. His bumper corners and side mirrors drooped unhappily.

"Alright, let's pack up and go!" Michael announced.

Out of the city they drove, with Neos, Deos, and Ethos leading and Kitt and Cadge followed with Kitt carrying Michael and Jake. The Nissans took the cars out to the main highway and began to make their general way north, towards Canada. As they went, they obeyed traffic laws and kept just under the speed limit, keeping nervous eyes out for the police. Ethos almost ran ahead of them in a race with Cadge, but a quick word from the others reminded them to stay where they were. But, of course, things just can't go the way they should for Michael…

"Uh, guys?" Cadge called, "I see a silver Mustang with a black racing stripe coming up behind us _fast_."

Michael buckled in and sank back in his seat.

"Please, no, please, no, please, no…" he muttered.

"What?" Jake asked, turning in his seat to look out the back window, "What's the matter?"

"You might want to buckle up now, Mr. Nelson," Kitt cautioned, "It seems like an old enemy of ours has caught up to us."

Jake buckled up as he asked, "An enemy? Don't tell me another talking car!"

"I'm afraid so," Michael said, taking out and checking over his gun.

"Don't you have _any_ human enemies?"

"Yeah, but they're in jail or on the run. We gotta get off this road before people start getting hurt. Aw, crap, how are we gonna tell the Nissans we're leaving?"

"Michael, my radio feels weird—"Kitt began.

_"YO! Kit-Kat! Looks like Mr. Metal and Mean is ready to splatter your engine across the green! Yo, Blue, Green, Yellow! Take the next left, ASAP, or suffer a pile up!"_

The Nissans listened by obediently turning off the highway and down a small road into the woods. Kitt and Cadge swung down the same road with the hated silver and black Mustang following them.

"What the…?" Michael asked.

"It appears that another mechanical person has taken over my radio," Kitt groaned, "Who ever is hijacking my radio, please state your name and purpose."

_"Aww, don't recognize me Kit-Kat? It's me! Bob 'Chill' Crackers! What, you thought I was joking about being a helicopter?"_

The branches bridging the air over the road flailed about as a helicopter shot by over head, there one moment, gone the next, racing on ahead of the cars. The road was quickly degrading in quality into a dirt road as the trees got closer to the road.

"Holy cow!" Jake exclaimed, "I heard of this guy, I _love_ listening to his Tuesday night stand up! Man, I thought being a helicopter was just a staple of his act!"

_"Yeah, it's weird how everyone just rejects the truth, eh, Jackie-ol' boy."_

"How can you hear me?"

_"Voice-control technology; it works both ways. Take the next right!"_

The Nissans obeyed Chill and Kitt and Cadge did like wise, drifting into the road and leaving dust clouds behind them. Karr shot on, but stopped short and backed up to go down the right road.

"Why are you helping us?" Michael asked, "And how do you know about us, anyway?"

_"Yo, li'le Zoe's a friend of mine, too! Trust me, word gets around when one of the guys who kidnapped her turned out to have a __huge__ ego the size and material make up of a hot air balloon that he's gotta brag out to the world."_

"Wait, so you know where Zoe is? And Wild?" Michael asked excitedly.

_"Ah, in a general sense, but can't talk now; we gotta loose this baddie before he does the mua-ha-ha-ha bit! This road'll get you right back on the highway; I'll catch up when I got this guy stalled long enough!"_

With that, a giant waft of white, steamy substance plunged through the leaves behind them, instantly freezing leaves and branches into a glassy state of ice. The substance froze the ground and made it silvery with crystals as Karr came upon them. Karr slammed on his brakes, trying to avoid the slippery ground, but lost control and skidded, turning a complete circle before he slammed into a tree. More icing substance poured on him from above as Kitt and Cadge made their get-away, coming back on the highway right after the Nissans.

* * *

Billy was playing with Li'le Terror and Nevada in FLAG's garage. He tossed a ball out and the sentient toy truck and dog would race after to retrieve it, whether rolling it or chewing it, to Billy. The problem was Nevada was a greedy sucker for his tennis ball and often stole it, scrambling into Wayne. Li'le Terror did like wise, but rolled the ball under the over-protective Ruby or Equinox.

The same thing happened now as Nevada snatched up the ball and ran up the ramp propped against Wayne's tread and up into his cabin. Li'le Terror's tiny horn beeped in a shout as it rolled up the ramp and toppled into the cab with a clank.

"Hey!" Wayne laughed, "Stop, that tickles!"

Billy smiled, but turned his attention over to Negado. Many of the dents had been banged out and a wobbling tire had been fixed, but other wise the car remained as he was: A near-totaled ride. Any further attempts to repair had been met with extreme hostility. Now the car hung mute and still on the lift. Billy got up and walked over to the car, reaching out to it.

"Touch me and you die," Negado growled.

Billy jumped back nervously, but a determined look came on his face as he forced himself forward.

"What are you going to do?" he asked, "_Beep_ me to death?"

The remains of Negado's engine gunned unhappily, but Billy donned on a pair of gloves and began to check over Negado's bottom, diagnosing what needed fixing where. Benjamin wandered into the Garage and stood, watching Billy check over his unappreciative patient.

"Still giving you troubles, eh, Billy?" Benjamin shouted over Negado's damaged engine.

"Like a cat avoiding the vet!" Billy shouted back, "Give me a hand and help me stick this muffler on! _That_ should shut him up for a _little_ while!"

Benjamin came over and helped Billy install the part, dodging working parts and gingerly handling heated bits. The muffler helped somewhat but not enough. Negado began to shoot his engine in a long, long rev when Equinox quickly drove in front of him, beeping loudly. Negado stopped as Equinox honked, flashed his lights, and opened and closed parts of him while speaking in Machine.

"Hey, Wayne, what's he saying?" Benjamin asked.

"Equinox is chewin' the prisoner, Negado, out fer bein' a rude dick head," Wayne translated. " 'E's pointin' out that we could easily kill 'im at any time, but we ain't 'cause we're better folk than that. Now we're tryin' t' make things right an' repair 'im, but Negado's bein' a big water works boy an' putting up a fuss like a spoiled babe. Shame on you, shame on you, an' stuff like that."

Negado responded, speaking as well as he could with his busted body.

"Okay, this is kinda garbled with so many things busted an' all, but, uh, I think Negado's sayin' that 'e's just tryin' ta keep some sort of advantage, bein' road kill an' all."

"Stop eaves dropping on other people's conversations!" Negado snapped.

"Well, it's kinda hard t' keep a conversation personal-like aroun' _here_," Wayne scoffed. "Speakin' in Machine don't make no difference, either."

A low, angry growl came across Negado's engine, but Equinox began speaking again and, again, Wayne translated.

"Equinox says sorry fer th' smashin' an' all, but promises that if they act cool to each other, they won't be enemies to each other no more an' Negado and Jake can go free. We just need t' take th' first step fer trust. What d' ya say, Negado? Wanna be friends?"

Negado's engine emitted a curt, rude fart-like noise of something backfiring and there was a collective sigh from the machines.

"Aaaaaan' Negado says no," Wayne growled, "By th' name of veterans an' RPG's, I'm gonna kill that boy…"

* * *

Cadge and Kitt, meanwhile, were finding it unusually hard to keep up with the Nissan Nuisances as they actually _fled_ from the FLAG units. Kitt changed into a police car to lower suspicion; as far as anyone else knew, he was just a cop chasing racers. As they shouted back and forth across the highway, Cadge translated from Machine for the Nuisances.

"Hey, come back her!" Cadge exclaimed, "We're gonna get caught!"

"Nu uh!" Ethos yipped, "Not if it means that you guys are in bad duds with The Cyborg!"

"The _what_?" Cadge exclaimed, "You mean Karr?"

"Car? Which car?" Deos asked.

"Karr: K-A-R-R--- you know what, we know him as Karr, why do you call him The Cyborg and why are you so afraid of him?"

"The Cyborg has been putting the squeeze on any sentient machines he can get his hands on," Deos called back, "Makes 'em join his army that he's calling the Uprising; wants to take over the world or something like that. We Nuisances are one of the handfuls of machines left that don't' follow the freak."

"We can protect you from Karr," Kitt said, "We have defeated him before, and we can do it with our powers combined."

"Yeah," Ethos laughed, "You mean _your_ powers: You and Cadge got shape shifting abilities and Chill up there can make a Winter Wonderland out of a _desert_. What do we mere Nissans have? Fancy paint jobs and driving tricks! Forget that, we watch our own rear bumpers!"

"I've seen Karr in action before," Cadge said, privately flashing back to previous times, "He can be persuasive and ruthless when he wants to be. It's only a matter of time before he forces this Uprising army of his after anyone not with them… _including_ you. Just stick with us and I promise that I will take your safety into my own personal care before my own."

"Does finding your females truly matter so much?" Neos asked, speaking for the first time since Karr's ambush. "It matters so much that you will risk your own lives in getting to them?"

"Yes," Cadge could only say. What more did he need to say?

"Hmm. Very well, my comrades and I will assist you in tracking down Izago so that _he_ can help you in your quest, but after that, we are splitting. Thank you for the warning for Karr, at least."

"Warning!?" Deos demanded, "You called almost being ambushed a warning!?"

Neos emitted a harsh gear grind that forbade any more complaining and Deos complied.


	13. Found Him

**Disclaimer: I do not own Knight Rider or any attached blessings to it. Neither do I own any additionally mentioned culture references, locations, songs, et cetera.**

**Chapter 13: Found Him**

He was showing off to a collection of teenagers in a high school parking lot late at night when the Nissan Nuisances led them to the small Canadian-American border town. The kids, young and probably breaking curfew, cheered on the silvery-blue Ferrari as it spun around and around in a large ring of kids and cars, lighting up spirals of rubber smoke with glowing head and rear lights. Some kids were even nuts enough to hop into the Ferrari's way for the briefest of moments in a daring challenge to see who could get closest. One timid-looking lad was suddenly shoved forward and fell to the pavement right in front of the Ferrari. As quick as if someone had pressed the Pause button, the Ferrari stopped with its front mere inches from the cowering boy as the crowd cheered in approval. The way the lights glowed and the engine revved repeatedly, one could tell that it was laughing.

"Does he often do this?" Kitt inquired, "I am seeing seventeen illegal acts occurring here—four of which could earn these children serious jail time."

"We're not here to bust kids, just talk to their entertainment," Michael replied.

Neos' engine revved oddly as he and the other Nissans backed up, their head lights dimming as they departed.

"Neos says bye-bye," Cadge translated, "His crew is splitting before Karr gets back. Speaking of which; Chill, do you spot the creep anywhere?"

"_No sign of the snake in the snacks, Steve,"_ the mysterious helicopter called from his shadowy loft in the skies, _"This is Chill, over and out!"_

"I thought your name was Cadge—"Kitt began.

Cadge unsheathed a tentacle briefly to smack Kitt.

"Seriously, Kitt," Cadge said, "You gotta learn some lingo before I gotta knock it into you."

"Alright," Michael said, "Cadge, stay back, just in case. Kitt, let's go see if we can make friends with this notorious Izago."

People looked when Kitt and Michael approached, but turned their attention back to Izago as the Ferrari drove in circles backwards, balancing a couple of teenage girls on his hood. Michael doubted that the girls' fathers would approve of their attire, but the crowd was certainly enjoying the show. Upon spotting Michael as he got out of Kitt, though, Izago came to a quick stop and honked, popping his hood to chase the girls off.

"Alright, guys, show's over!" Izago called out in a voice with an odd, Italian-French accent, "Get on home or Tommy's place for booze and broads!"

The teenagers cheered and cleared out quickly. Izago, though, rolled forward to Michael and Kitt. With only one pair of his numerous headlights on and back lights glowing brightly, Izago was peering at the pair with suspicious curiosity.

"Michael Knight and his noble, if not emotionally-challenged steed, Kitt," he remarked. "It's a pleasure to meet the men who stopped the Nevada Incident!"

"How do you know us?" Michael asked.

"Ah, who _doesn't_ know about you?" Izago chuckled, "You just gotta ask the right questions. So, what brings you to _my_ neck of the woods?"

The FLAG members explained their predicament with Zoe and Wild.

"The Genie? Yeah, I know him," Izago answered coldly, "He and I have some personal beef to fry. I know what he's doing, but where he is I'm still trying to figure out."

"By showing off street tricks for teenagers who could use a better role model?" Kitt asked.

"Hey, if they're dumb enough to copy me, that's their own problem!" Izago snorted.

"_Well, if you know __what__ he's doing, and I know (kinda) __where__ he's doing it, then why don't we put our puzzle pieces together and make a picture?"_ Chill asked.

"Alright, then, here's what I know," Izago began, "The Genie has gone off the loop end and wants to knock around the human gene pool with strange power up serums that can change the very chemical make up of a human. He's smart enough to do it, he just needs to keep his back end protected from feds and to keep hidden, which is why he's hired Karr as his gun. From what I can tell, Karr's working for the Genie to get his help in taking down FLAG and having one final go at getting Michael."

"That guy's obsession is verging on terrifying…" Cadge muttered.

Michael sighed in annoyance; same tune, same song, as always with Karr.

"Alright, I'll bite: How could he get me?" Michael asked.

"The Genie would make a mind-control serum that Karr would inject into you and make you his little puppet for the rest of your miserable human life."

"Knight Industries was understating it when they said that Karr's programming was imperfect," Kitt noted.

"Agreed," Michael said. "Chill, you said that you knew where the Genie was?"

The helicopter circled overhead as he spoke through their radios.

"_Yeah, man; one of his henchmen was being all Edward and stuff, claiming to be a vampire 'cause the power up juice the Genie gives his employees makes 'em as pale as a dead guy and as fu—uh, __messed up__ as a demon. Anyway, henchman says that Genie's got a __tiny__ obsession with classic legends and stuff and lives in Atlantis. Now, don't think literal in name, but in scene: What city, in recent years, has been sunk beneath the sea?"_

"It has to be somewhere on this _continent_, or else Sarah would have picked up _something_ in airport records," Michael muttered.

"_Lemme give ya a hint: It was sunk by a bitch."_

"New Orleans!" Cadge exclaimed, "New Orleans was practically _submerged_ when Hurricane Katrina hit it!"

"_Bingo! And as we all know, the poor place still has some mold spots here and there…"_

"So what better place to scrape up cheap-hired henchmen and test subjects for a super power serum and guards to protect it?" Michael finished. "Chill, you're a genius!"

"_Nah, the henchman couldn't shut his big ugly white head."_

"Did you follow him back to the Genie's exact location?"

"_Didn't get a chance; I overheard the conversation while resting on the roof of a bar. Henchman said one too many words, and next thing you know, someone up and shot him."_


	14. Spat

**Disclaimer: I do not own Knight Rider or any attached blessings to it. Neither do I own any additionally mentioned culture references, locations, songs, et cetera.**

**Chapter 14: Spat**

Billy sat down hard under Negado, panting as he wiped sweat from his forehead. Negado was still proving to be a pain, even under repairs, and the heat radiating from his growling under belly was just getting too much for the computer geek. Sitting under the lifted car, he drew out a group picture of FLAG at their Christmas party. Kitt and Cadge peeked in from either side of the picture with Cadge's grille lifted up in a huge grin and Christmas lights covering him. Kitt was covered in tinsel. Between them the humans posed. Billy smiled when he saw how Zoe had her arms wrapped around his neck in a playful headlock, making them almost look like a couple.

"That your girl?"

Billy jumped and held his picture to himself protectively, looking up at Negado.

"Um, uh, y-yeah, what's it to you?" Billy asked.

"Cute. No wonder why you guys are so hyped to get her back."

"What do you care? _Your_ guys kidnapped her, and you're a car and she's a human; it'll never go anywhere!"

"Just like a nerd like you and her," Negado snorted, "And what ever I might feel for her isn't sexual; it's on a personal level of connection humans and cars have every day, but only cars feel…"

"I'm intrigued, continue," Billy implored.

"Heck no!" Negado snarled, suddenly turning hostile, "Like I'd tell a _fleshing_ like _you_ something like that?"

Negado didn't have to; Wayne Boomer answered Billy.

"It's somethin' humans can't feel, but we do," the tank said, "It's hard to describe, with a life in side of you and directin' you aroun', knowin' that one mistake from _them_ could spell certain doom fer you… Ah, I ain't no poet, an' I couldn't tell ya even if I _was_. Let's just say that it's somethin' you ain't even gonna understand."

"Huh…" Billy muttered, getting back up to repair Negado. "That's interesting…"

Negado's engine gunned when Billy touched the underside and Billy fell back with a surprised yip.

* * *

In an automobile shop somewhere, the windows had been covered with blankets and the parts moved aside. In the back a wall of TV's had been set up, each screen showing a different view of some club somewhere. Four people covered in winter gear stood in the corners of the garage, holding their automatics at ready. They all came to attention stiffly when they heard an engine approaching. The Genie, sitting in a roller chair in front of the TV's, didn't even look around when a silver Mustang with a black racing stripe on top enter the garage. Looking closely, one saw a peculiar glimmer in the metal around the hood area where a striking cobra was branded; the tell-tale scars of battle.

The guards shuffled about nervously, but did not attack when the car parked and a malicious, deep electronic voice growled out from the car.

"Genie," the voice barked, "You said you would have the mind-control serum ready by now! Where is it??"

"Patients, Karr," the Genie assured without looking around, "It takes time for herbs to ferment and such. Oh, and something about great pieces of art takes patients, Rome wasn't built in a day, or some other over-used phrase. My point is that you'll just have to wait a little more. By the way, how is your anti-FLAG hunt going?"

The car bucked and came up, stretching up to become a barrel-chested humanoid with long arms and claws. Its head had wing-like protrusions on the side and a pulsating yellow visor was the only thing indicating a face. The guards jumped nervously when Karr spun the chair around and seized the Genie up. His visor was glowing with a ferocious fire.

"It would go a lot better if I could have _Michael Knight under my control!_" Karr snarled, "But you insist on toying with me and playing these silly waiting games!"

"Temper, temper, Karr," the Genie snickered.

The Genie kicked in Karr's grip and Karr, surprised by the strength the human showed, dropped him. The Genie turned to pick up his chair and spun around, throwing it at Karr's head. Karr's head tilted back as the chair shattered in a mass of cotton, wood, and plastic splinters on his head. He slumped forward, rubbing his head.

"Right, that strength," he muttered, "I keep forgetting that."

"Just as you forget that _you_ came to _me_ for help," the Genie hissed, "Just as you forgot the terms of our contract: Until my gene splicing serum is created, _I own you._ Next time you forget that, I'll turn you into a Volkswagen mini van, you got that!?"

"I got that as sure as your ex-girlfriends got their hospital bills," Karr growled.

"Any woman who's raised _my_ temper never _made_ it to the hospital," the Genie said, a cruel smirk hidden by his scarf. "Scouts report that your _crush_ and his team are making their way here. I suppose the bragging fool that was exterminated a few weeks back gave his information to the wrong people. Go and _greet_ them, will you?"

"Your wish is my command, _master_," Karr sneered, transforming back into his car form and backing out of the garage.

When Karr had gone, one of the guards, the same red-coated man that had helped kill Chester, came forward.

"Sir," he said in soft, heavily-British voice, "Are you sure it's wise to let a _freak_ like that roll around for us? He's highly unstable and _obsessed_ with this Michael character. It'd be too busy to manipulate him, providing the right words were made."

"Oh, I know that, Jerald," the Genie said, as friendly as a rabbit, "But he knows enough that if we just let him go, I'll be back in a straightjacket by sundown."

"We can protect you, sir," Jerald argued, "You've done so much for us! And I'm sure that the _gifts_ you provided us will be _more_ than enough to get us through more than a few borders."

The Genie chuckled and patted Jerald on the shoulder. The other guards stiffened, ready to hear something crack and for Jerald to crumble, screaming, as the Genie's unpredictable temper attacked again. But Jerald remained unharmed under the Genie's fatherly pats.

"You're too kind, Jerald," the Genie chuckled, "This is why you're my second in command while Natasha's only the dirty work girl. You can never trust her, you know. Speaking of which, I believe that it's feeding time now. Go do a surprise visit on her to make sure she's not, oh, making love to a federal agent again or something."

* * *

Zoe and Wild's TV dinner meals were slid through the slot at the bottom of the door and the girls reluctantly ate. When the door opened, they left their meals and stood up, backing up to the wall with noticeable unease written on their frames. But the person who entered the cell was a female dressed all in winter gear with a blue and black winter coat; this was the final person that had killed Chester the thief.

The killer looked at the women, then down at the TV dinners.

"Oh, _please_," she sighed, "I don't bite."

Zoe and Wild didn't relax.

"What _are_ you?" Zoe demanded, "I saw what you guys are under all that gear… and it's not natural. What happened to you?"

"The Genie happened," the woman sighed almost dreamily, "He gave us something that was just _splendid_. You might think we're monsters, but so we're a little pale and our eyes change color, so what? We're still human… just _better_, with better reflexes, strength, and senses…"

"Your _mouths_ are _rotting_!" Zoe exclaimed , "I mean, how do you make out!?"

"Is that all you can think of?" the woman cackled, "How do we _make like teenagers?_ Oh, dear Zoe, no wonder why the Genie didn't think you were a threat! You're as naïve and immature as a child!"

Anger dirtied Zoe's pretty face as she stepped forward, ready to defend herself, but Wild put her arm in front of Zoe, stopping her. Zoe glanced at Wild, but stayed put, even though she continued to glare at the strange woman. It was at this moment that Jerald appeared in the doorway.

"Natasha! What are you doing with the prisoners?" he barked, "Without permission from the Genie, and no guards around on top of that! Get out here!"

Jerald didn't even give Natasha a chance to move herself; he grabbed her none-too-gently by the back of her coat and yanked her out with one hand. The other slammed the heavy iron door once she was out. Zoe and Wild jumped at the loud clang the door made and winched when they heard Natasha hit the opposite wall of the outside hallway.

"Oww, watch it!" Natasha snarled, "I was just trying to get some info—"

"If the Genie wants info, he'll say so," Jerald snapped.

"You wouldn't take a dump without the Genie telling you, would you?"

"He's done more for us than what we can repay him, and your attitude isn't helping. _Don't_ so much as _look_ at the prisoners again unless the Genie says so!"

The two continued to argue as they moved off. Zoe and Wild exchanged looks.

"Lovers' spat," they agreed in unison.


	15. Black Helicopter

**Disclaimer: I do not own Knight Rider or any attached blessings to it. Neither do I own any additionally mentioned culture references, locations, songs, et cetera. Don't forget to review!**

**Chapter 15: Black Helicopter**

Cadge decided that he had bad luck with back country roads and sideswiping.

He had been taking up the rear behind Kitt and Izago going down a back Alabama road on their way to Florida when the silver automaton known as Karr had, literally, leaped from the bushes and tackled Cadge clean off the road, knocking him into the lowered pasture on the opposite side. Even as Cadge slammed into the ground, denting metal and shattering glass, Izago and Kitt stopped and spun around. Michael's face dropped as he cussed. Jake shouted and slammed his feet into Kitt's dashboard in bracing himself.

"I agree, Michael," Kitt commented, "Shit."

"You have no room to talk, Kitt," Karr snarled, rearing up into his robot mode. "Give me Michael or I will take him from your cold, dead frame."

"Holy crap! Holy crap!" Jake yelled, "That's—that's a robot! It's a freaking Transformer! Oh my god, they're real--!"

"Karr, for the love of god, we've been through this before!" Michael exclaimed, exasperated at the now-annoying persistence, "We _were_ partners, once, long ago, but you changed, Karr! You're not the same machine I knew; you're crazy, hell-bent on revenge, you—"

"Are _not_ getting Michael," Kitt growled, "Izago, you may want to back up."

"To hell with that!" Izago screeched, darting in front of Kitt. His anger was unexpected and unusual. "Karr, you dirt bag--!"

"Izago, get out of the way!" Karr barked.

"You two know each other?" Jake asked, "Are you a Transformer? Oh my god, they're real—"

"Karr's no Transformer," Michael objected, "Just the shell of someone."

"Well, yeah, you tend to know each other when you got some personal _beef_ between you," Izago growled.

It was at this moment that Cadge's tentacles finally managed to push him onto all four wheels again. He charged up the hill and slammed into Karr, knocking him aside a few feet. Cadge's body molded and shifted, becoming lower and sharper until he was an Ascari A10 colored blue with two narrow yellow stripes running the length of the car just by the left headlight. Michael took over Kitt and backed them up a few yard and Izago followed. Michael and Kitt knew from experience how tough and hostile Cadge could be in his feral Ascari mode. Karr seemed to have forgotten that.

"You," Cadge snarled, "killed me."

"But not well enough, I see," Karr growled, turning on Cadge. "How about I finish the job _properly_?"

One of Karr's hands turned into a laser rifle and he shot at Cadge. Cadge's rear wheels spun around as his back end turned about, taking him just outside of the laser's path way.

"I got this _freak_, Kitt!" Cadge called, "You guys got get the Genie, I'll catch up!"

"Cadge," Michael objected, "You can't stay behind, last time Karr almost—"

"GO!!"

An almost animal snarl came from Cadge's engine as he circled around Karr, making the larger machine turn slowly to match him. Cadge's tentacles unsheathed at their max length and whiplashed the air, cracking them mere inches in front of Izago and Kitt, making the cars back up more. Michael chewed on his lip, but knew that as an Ascari, Cadge would be like his car's European origins and be too proud and arrogant to listen. Against his wishes, he turned Kitt about and continued on their way, pressing the gas pedal down. Izago followed momentarily.

"You watch yourself, Cadge," he warned.

"Don't worry," Cadge growled as his headlights flashed, "I will."

Cadge's tentacles whiplashed the air as barbs sprouted from their ends and spun around before becoming multi-fingered claws. The tentacles snapped through the air and slashed at Karr's chest, leaving behind several scratches. He made for another go, but Karr caught the tentacle arms and pulled on them, dragging the Ascari forward. Cadge's headlights narrowed even more in concentration as his gears turned to Reverse, playing tug-of-war with his tentacles.

The tentacles became taught and twanged in the air from strain. Karr loosened up briefly before giving a sudden, savage yank. There was a loud snap and Cadge's gears grinded aloud in pain as the tentacles were ripped from their settings, trailing sparks and loose wires after them. Cadge backed off the road and into the lower field, drawing Karr out into the open where Cadge could drive around better. Karr threw the tentacles aside and chased after Cadge, shooting at him. In the field, Cadge drove around and around Karr, creating a brown dirt ring in the green grass barely avoiding Karr's lasers. Karr's laser cannon turned back into a hand and he dropped down into his car mode. His engine gunned like a hunter before he took chase after Cadge.

All the while, Karr's CPU was arguing with him that it would be far more logical to go after Kitt and Michael. But the spark that made Karr far more than just an intricately programmed machine argued back that it would be best to weaken Michael's defenses by killing twerps like Cadge. That, and his frustration at Cadge's return from the dead was really jerking him the wrong way.

Cadge saw Karr change and leaped back onto the road, going in the opposite direction of Michael and the others. As he cleared the top of the hill and gained momentary air time, the car shrank and grew a spoiler, becoming a ragged half-blue-half-yellow Acura NSX. In this reckless, but slightly more self-preserved mode, Cadge whooped and took off like a bee. Karr gave chase, shooting laser fire from near his pulsing yellow scanner.

They sped down the back roads, leaving a plume of dirt behind them as they sped on. Cadge weaved back and forth, avoiding Karr's shots as he teased him.

"Come on, you call that a shot? Billy could do better with his eyes closed!

"Were you shooting at me or that squirrel?

"Your mother was a minivan!"

But in spite of Cadge's bravo, he was very nervous. Karr had only to catch him and who _knew_ what the crazy Mustang would do to a little car like Cadge? Hence, when he heard helicopter blades chopping the air overhead, Cadge's digital heart soared as he turns his scanners skyward.

"Chill!" he yelled, "Give me a little help, would you?"

But the helicopter that came down from the sky to hover just over the road wasn't Chill; it was a complete black model with no identifying marks what so ever. All at once, the computer part of Cadge did a quick scan-and-identify and unexplained terror filled him as he slammed on his brakes, trying to avoid going closer to the helicopter. He couldn't tell why, but for some reason, black helicopters were _bad_.

Things seemed to slow down as Karr pulled up behind Cadge. Cadge's super sensitive sensors saw and heard Karr putting himself in reverse and revving his engine, about to back up and flee, just as Cadge was doing. But even as Cadge's tires started turning back, the side door of the helicopter slid open and a figure popped out, aiming a rocket launcher in their direction and shooting. Cadge's sensors momentarily screamed of danger and fire before blacking out.

* * *

Bob "Chill" Crackers hovered a few miles away from the ambush sight too terrified to come closer, but too loyal to abandon. He watched as the black helicopter landed and the humans took out Cadge's and Karr's computers, or attempted to. Cadge's computer was locked into his frame too tight and Karr's spat sparks when touched. He heard the humans call over their radios for a truck and watched them set up a perimeter, guarding the unconscious shells. He wanted to contact Michael and Kitt about this, but they were too far away.

So he fearfully hovered, waiting for the transforming Half-Lives to be loaded up so that he could follow them.

* * *

Spencer was passing through the main computer lobby area of the FLAG HQ when he saw Sarah petting Nevada. Looking at her, though, he saw that she was a million miles away. Worrying about her honey, Michael? Spencer understood how she felt; he was out in danger, just like Wild was, and was probably worrying her head off. But there was a hint of anger in those pretty eyes; what could be _that _wrong?

He pulled up a chair and sat down, drawing back Sarah's attention. He offered her the soda he was carrying.

"No, thanks," she said.

"What's on your mind?" Spencer asked, sipping at the soda.

"It's about the Head of State suddenly hounding us for our work? Why now?"

"Maybe we took one step too many in the wrong direction," Spencer said with a shrug, "Heck, I'm smart with vehicles, not politics."

"Do you think it has something to do with the Genie?"

"I repeat: I'm smart with vehicles, not politics."

"Hmm, we know that the Genie's working on a power up to shake things up, that he's a whacko with a bad temper, and that Karr's protecting him for some reason. Maybe some army politicians have their hand in the Genie's cookie jar for personal use of the power ups? They've been working on their own power up for years and we've been cleaning up most of their messes from those experiments. Yeah, that would make sense!"

Sarah's eyes lit up as they did when she was having an epiphany.

"The Genie didn't escape an insane asylum, he was _busted_ out! His freedom and free reign was given in exchange that he would share the power ups with political figures, and that's why none of the other agencies have reported on this guy, have kept eyes on him, and why we're being hounded for messing with him: He's a card in the deck!"

"So the question now is; what card of ours is going to trump these political guys' ace?" Spencer inquired.

"Ignorance," Sarah said confidently, "As long as the Head and others think that _we're_ still in the dark about their relationship with the Genie, then they won't have a reason to pull a red card on us and shut us down as a terrorist threat or anything like that. We just have to stay inside the lines, follow the rules, and try not to cause too much collateral damage."

"But if some fat ass in Washington really _does_ have protection over the Genie, then won't he just be walked out again?"

Sarah froze, not liking the idea that came across her mind.

"Then… we'll have to say we killed him in an accident, but keep him safe and imprisoned elsewhere," Sarah said, "Either that, or collect enough evidence so that he'll be properly jailed with no chance of bail or freedom."

"Why don't we just kill him?"

"And get slapped with a brutality charge? No, Spencer, we're on a burning rope high over the ground. One misstep and we fall…"

Right on time, a call came in for them, again, from the Head.

"_Said we could trust it and you control it, eh?"_ the Head growled, _"I knew you couldn't do it. A machine's no good unless directed by human hands, I say, which is why unmanned drone craft tick me off so bad…"_

Nevada looked up and growled. Spencer shushed him as Sarah spoke.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"_I'm talking about the machine you call Cadge, Graiman,"_the Head growled, _"It was found at one o'clock this afternoon, escorting the terrorist tool known as Karr directly towards Washington DC. Do you realize how dangerous a runaway car would be to our nation's capital, let alone __two transforming__ monstrosities?"_

"Hold on! That's impossible, I haven't received a report from my agents yet, and Cadge—"Her mind flailed about for an excuse and found it, "And I reprogrammed Cadge myself! He does _not_ have the intelligence to think for himself, let alone lead anyone anywhere! Just let my other field agents report in their side of the story—"

"_That will not be necessary, Sarah,"_ the Head snapped, _"We'll keep both machines in our custody until further notice. In the mean time, Graiman, I recommend that you find yourself a lawyer. A little more evidence, and you and your brood of vigilante freaks will be out of a job and into a cell."_

The phone was hung up and Sarah and Spencer exchanged nervous looks. Nevada smelled their nervousness and whimpered, licking Sarah's hand reassuringly.

"Now what?" Spencer whispered.

* * *

When they were a safe distance away from the battle, Jake spoke.

"Okay," he said, "Will someone explain to me what the hell that was about?"

Michael took a deep breath and told Jake. As he spoke, they came back to the main roads and Michael slowed Kitt down into the speed limits, taking the tourist's quickest route to New Orleans.

"A long time ago, Karr was the original poster boy of Knight Industries, the same guys who make Kitt here, and was my partner. We fought terrorism in the Middle East until Karr upgraded himself beyond the Knight Industries' desires. When they attempted to power-down him, Karr fought back and killed several people and the entire project was a bust.

"They shut Karr down and shot me up with stuff to forget it all. A few months later, I was drawn back in and teamed up with Kitt here. When Knight Industries' founder died and dissolved, a copy of Kitt's programming was used to ressurect Karr and he went hay wire, wanting to kill Kitt and take over me, just like old times. We defeated him, but he got re-made by some unlucky sucker wanting to make a quick buck and thrill.

"Karr came back and I got my memories of him back with a hit to the head. We fought again, won, but Karr's been loose ever sense. He's bent on taking me back with his partner, though, and is an obsessive, stubborn, temper-mental genius and whacko."

"Dude, you were partners with… _that_?" Jake asked, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

He grinned and shook his head, chuckling, "Man, I am _so_ joining the army after this."

_"Don't expect your loyalty to be returned,"_ Sarah said, appearing on a screen on Kitt's windshield._ "I just got a call from the Head of State: He says that officials caught Cadge escorting Karr to Washington DC. They caught them and are taking them into custody now."_

"What? That's ridiculous!" Michael exclaimed.

"I am sorry for seeming harsh, but it wouldn't be too surprising, given Cadge's record with Karr," Kitt commented.

"What? What's that supposed to mean?" Jake asked.

"Karr manipulated Cadge last time they met and made Cadge his henchman for a while," Michael explained. "And, Kitt, yeah, but Cadge changed, remember? He's got his act together; the officials probably set something up."

_"You might be right, Michael,"_ Sarah said, and explained her theory of the politician-Genie connection.

"Sons of bitches," Jake said, forcing an un-amused smirk on his face, "You guys run your tails off of for them and they suddenly call it all for nothing just because it suddenly interferes with their cocktail parties."

"That's powder-heads for ya," Izago snorted, "They'll be happy if you break your back using the hoe to tow their fields, but if your field pulls up better crops, they'll take that hoe and crack your skull with it."

"I doubt that it's _that_ extreme, Izago," Kitt commented.

"Hey, wait, you understood that?" Michael asked, "Holy cow, Kitt, you're understanding slang!"

"Actually, Izago's dialogue was a metaphor—"

_"Can we get back on track here?"_ Sarah asked, _"Cadge and all of FLAG is in trouble, and so is Zoe and Wild! Now, going after Cadge would he pointless and a waste, so continue on to get Wild and Zoe. Once we get them back here at the base again, we'll see what red tape we'll have to peel to get Cadge back __before__ he gets crushed."_

"What about Karr?" Michael asked, "Last time the government had anything to deal with him, he was _resurrected _because they thought that they could control him. What happens if they tried that again and screwed up just as bad?"

_"Or worse,"_ Sarah said with a shudder, _"I'll do all I can to stall any action with Cadge and Karr. You guys just focus on the mission of getting our guys back. I hope we're not too late…"_


	16. Vampires

**Disclaimer: I do not own Knight Rider or any attached blessings to it. Neither do I own any additionally mentioned culture references, locations, songs, et cetera. Don't forget to review!**

**Chapter 16: Vampires**

Late at night, the guards stood vigilant outside of the prison cell as usual. Wild began to moan and groan inside the cell.

"Oh my god, someone help, please!" Zoe yelled.

The guards exchanged glances from behind their ski masks. They put out their fists and shook them three times before opening them up in a gesture. One made snipping motions with his index and middle finger at the other guard's open palm and the open-palmed guard shook a fist in frustration. A notable exasperated sigh came from the looser as he turned and opened the door.

_Swish-Bonk!_

The unfortunate guard's head snapped back before he fell against the opposite wall, knocked out cold by Zoe's ferocious flying heel kick. The other guard drew out his gun, turning to face the cell door and suppress the prisoners. Before he knew what was happening, Zoe smacked the crook of his neck and shoulder with a karate chop and followed it up with a knee to the stomach and nose. The second guard went down without a sound. Wild crept out of the cell, looking up and down the dim concrete hall nervously.

"Are there any more?" she whispered.

"No, come on," Zoe said, grabbing Wild's hand and leading the way. "I'm tired of waiting for Michael—oh, hold up, we could use these guys…"

A few minutes later the guards were locked inside the cell while Zoe ran off with Paper guard's boots on her own bare feet. Neither were surprised to find that at the end of the concrete hall was a warehouse of some sort, with its cat walks and halls being patrolled by anonymous men carrying guns. Warehouses, too many dumb henchmen, and darkness; couldn't these bad guy types think of anything _unique_, for once?

Quietly the more experienced Zoe led the older Wild along the shadowy parts of the warehouse, seeking a way out. But as they went around and around the perimeter, Zoe began to feel uneasy. Where were the large, obvious loading doors? Where were the bored, kind-of-dumb guards playing cards at a table as they talked about mundane thinks and helpful, work-oriented subjects? Was it night outside, or were the warehouse windows supposed to be black? And where was the creepy green glow that lit up the warehouse coming from? And why did it smell so much like sweat and garlic?

Zoe and Wild came to hide behind some tanks and looked about for a potential exit. Zoe finally realized why all the machinery among the warehouse was odd.

"Look at all this," Wild whispered, "It's like some enormous refinery!"

"And indeed it is, Madam Wild."

The girls looked up and gasped to see the Genie standing on a tank over them. Zoe launched to her feet with her fists clenched, but a slap from the Genie threw her against the side of a giant tub with her cheek reddening and quickly turning to purple. Wild cried Zoe's name and helped the girl stand. The Genie dropped down from the tank as a group of henchmen came out of hiding from behind the tanks.

"Tsk, tsk, little Zoe," the Genie said, drawing an inhaler from the pocket of his turquoise coat. "Don't you know that patients is a virtue?"

He seized Zoe's chin in one hand while he used the other to stick the inhaler n Zoe's mouth and press its button. Zoe gasped in fear, drawing in the inhaler's gases as the little device hissed. Her eyes rolled up in her head before she went limp in Wild's arms. Wild was held back as Zoe was taken from her by a couple of guards and dragged off.

"Zoe! Zoe! What did you _do_ to her?" Wild hollered.

"Gave her a sedative," the Genie replied, pocketing the inhaler. "Now, Ms. Wild, thanks to your companions' interfering, the leader of a great force has been captured, and without a leader, that force will run rampant and wreak havoc. However, I understand that you have experience with dealing with machines of a sentient nature. I merely request that you keep the horses stabled, and little Zoe won't become a meal."

Wild didn't know if the Genie and his henchmen actually ate human flesh, but she remembered the one face she saw beneath their winter gear and shivered.

"Okay," she said, "What do you need me to do?"

* * *

Wild was blindfolded, spun around, and carried to a different area. It looked like a typical, cliché garage; giant, tin walls, and concrete flooring, with no sound coming from outside. But looking at the machines gathered in the garage, she couldn't help but feel an intimidated shiver run up her spine. Everything from trucks and vans to motorcycles and cars were here, with handfuls of motor-scooters, a table lined with lap-tops, and even a few tanks and jets.

All these machines had been made sentient by the Nevada Incident, but had escaped it before they could be changed back. It wasn't too surprising, really; people often move about when they're in large machinery. It would only make sense that the machinery just happened to move out of the broadcast field when it happened. But if these machines had dreamed of freedom, those dreams were quickly canned when Karr had found them and forced them into joining his Uprising army, whether by force or their own will. According to what the Genie had told her, this Uprising was now preparing for an invasion with the goal of wiping out human leadership and raising machines to power.

Now, engines rumbled back and forth, jet turbines hissed, and the computers often bleeped and played music, all accompanied by numerous movements and body gestures as the machines spoke in their native dialogue. Wild felt overwhelmed and like she was about to faint. The Genie placed a hand on her back to steady her swaying, but used only his finger tips to make a claw-like feeling: It was a warning of his temper, ready to beat Wild if she failed.

Wild drew away from the Genie quickly and shook her head, clearing her throat nervously.

So… how was she supposed to do this?

"Hi, guys!"

As soon as she shouted it, she felt the blood rush to her face; it was too loud and girlish, like a new kid begging for attention in the cafeteria. The machines heard and fell silent. She felt eyeless gazes fall on her. A brief question of how they could see rushed by Wild before she waved it away and spoke again.

"So, ah, I heard you're getting kinda restless. What's the matter?" she asked.

_I got to keep them calm, _she reminded her self, _I got to keep them in control, in control…_

"Yo, where's the Cyborg?" a deep bass tone came from a blue Ford truck, "He was going to take some of us out for a training mission today!"

_They call Karr the Cyborg, I got to remember that,_ Wild thought.

Before she could answer, a female red motorcycle snapped at the truck, "And you _want_ to hang out with that freak? He nearly turned you into a pop can when you first met!"

"I know, and that's what makes me respect the guy. What, you jealous because he doesn't man-handle _you_ enough, tricycle Tracie?"

The Ford and several other trucks' engines chugged with snickers. The motorcycle's headlight flashed as she rolled forward a few feet and revved her engine at the truck.

"No, I just want to get back to my rider! He's certainly a few levels better than_ your_ inbred hillbilly cuss!"

The Ford's engine roared in a shout and he bellowed something incoherently back, but it was manipulated and broken up with a techno-like quality.

"Knock it off, you guys!" a teen-male-sounding green van called out, "Arguing isn't going to bring the Cyborg back _or_ keep him away."

"Oh, what?" an old black Ferrari barked, "You trying to be a leader again you little punk? Huh, are ya? Huh? You's a _soccer mom ride,_ dog! You don't got _anything_ on me, beach! Oh, hey," he said to a hot-pink Jaguar, "How you doin', sexy?"

_They're just like high school kids!_ Wild realized with amazement, _the trucks are jocks, the motorcycles seem like cheerleaders, Ferrari's are the tough-guy weirdoes, and at least __one__ van seems to be a responsible young adult!_

Wild may not have had a lot of practice with motivational speeches, but working with Cadge had more than prepared her enough for working with immature sentient machines.

"Alright, alright!" she yelled, clapping her hands as she walked forward, "Find a parking space and _stay_ there, and speak only when I call on you. Come on, hurry up! And _no_ pushing other people around or scratching paint!"

She was satisfied to see the Genie and the human guards' reactions when the machines, oddly enough, obeyed. Something about them just compelled them to be obedient with good reason. Once everyone had parked, her suspicions of the high school kid personalities was confirmed when she saw how all the machines that could move parked according to their model: Sports cars stayed with other sports cars, vans with vans, trucks with trucks, et cet. The only machines that hadn't moved were the jets and tanks, who had a large ring of clearance around them, and the table-bound computers, who couldn't move anyway.

"Okay," she began, "Who's got a problem?"

While Wild began to work her magic, Jerald approached the Genie and whispered into his ear.

"Sir, Karr—"

"Has been captured, I know—" the Genie interrupted.

"No, sir, Michael Knight, his car, and Izago have entered the city limits!"

* * *

For the most part, the city was restored: People drifted through the street with hardly anything on, tourists covered with an icing of sun protection lotion or caked with a sun burn took pictures of mundane things, artists drew goofy pictures of people for a few bills a picture, and street vendors sold their wares. But here and there, it could be seen, if one squinted, hints of the devastating hurricane: A memorial mosaic painted there, piles of water-rotted furniture in back allies here and buildings boarded up and left in ruin when no insurance company or fixer-upper wanted to touch it.

Things only got worse as they went farther away from the tourist part and came into the down town area, where most homes had been replaced by trailers and people were _still_ repairing hurricane damage. They began to receive dirty and curious looks from bystanders, as if they were responsible for the misfortune. Izago's radio clicked as he began to play an audio recording of a British man speaking in a hushed tone.

"_The lion prowls the savannah, peering about for an easy meal of a weak link in the heard of antelope—"_

"Cut that out, Izago, that's not funny," Kitt scolded.

Izago cut off the audio with a maniacal giggle. Michael remembered all the warnings he had received of Izago's less-then-stable sanity and felt a cold caterpillar crawl up his spine. Was it the full moon yet?

"Hey, uh, what are we looking for here?" Jake asked, watching a pair of beach babes in tiny bikinis roller blade by, "Because, uh, if it's gorgeous women, I found 'em."

"We're looking for any sign of the Genie, or anyplace he might hang out at," Michael said, turning down an abandoned street. "Izago, you seem to know Karr and how he thinks, and Karr was working with the Genie, so maybe you can figure something out?"

"I have figured out…" Izago said in an odd accent, "That we are at a dead end!" he finished dramatically.

"For some reason, I really dislike you know," Kitt announced as they stopped at the end of the street, looking for a driveway to turn around in.

At that moment, though, a large group of men dressed all in winter gear came from the allies and abandoned brick buildings around them, coming to surround the cars and aim guns at them.

"Well," Jake said, "Looks like _we_ don't have to find _them_."

"Yeah, we just have to _survive_ them. Kitt can take anything these guys throw at us, but Izago's not bullet proof, so how are we going to--?"

"_PAINT THE FENCE!!"_

Izago's tires squealed like girls as he backed up and spun about, kicking up dirt and stones in the faces of the men. They backed up, covering their heads with their arms as small stones and pebbles leaped from Izago's spinning back tires to bite at them. One shook his head to rid of the nervousness and opened fire on the Ferrari. The others followed suit, but the Ferrari backed up right through their ring. Michael and Jake's faces took on identical, O-mouthed looks of shock as Izago ran right over one of the attackers, leaving them laid out on the ground as he backed right out of the dead end street and out of sight.

"Okay, Kitt, they're all yours!" he called, disappearing around the corner with a whoop.

"Dude!" Jake yelled, "He just totally killed that guy! I mean, isn't he going to get body damage or _something_ from that? And—is that guy getting back up?"

Sure enough, the guy Izago had run over was already sitting up and brushing himself off as if nothing had happened. He stood, brushing his arms off. Something was odd about his face… oh, right, it was smashed in from Izago's back bumper, kind of flat, and leaking blood through his ski mask and goggles. He looked over at a companion as they pointed to their face. Understanding, the hit-and-run victim placed his hands to his ruined face and squeezed it, resetting it into a proper shape as the blood flow stopped. The two flashed each other thumbs-up signs before approaching Kitt.

"Dude," Jake said, "That is totally awesome."

"Kitt, bio-scans?" Michael squeaked, looking about at the approaching attackers.

"It's not good news, Michael," Kitt said glumly, "These men have been chemically altered for super human healing abilities and abnormally high strength and stamina."

"I have _got_ to get myself some of that," Jake said.

"Any weakness?" Michael asked.

"Well, they _do_ have unusually high levels of—"

"Short version, Kitt."

"They're allergic to sunlight."

"So they're vampires?" Jake asked.

"Only one way to tell," Michael said, "Kitt; anyway we can rip these guys' clothes up a bit?"

"I _do_ have returning throwing blades—"

"That'll do. Fire them, now."

From a slot just under Kitt's front grill, five small throwing stars flew out and through the air. They flew by the closest attacker, slicing at his sleeves and pant legs before making a U-turn and returning to Kitt. The man looked down at his arms and legs nervously as they fell open, revealing snowy white skin beneath. Michael and Jake watched as the white skin reddened and began to smoke where it was touched by the sun. The man cried out in pain, clutching at his burning arms as he stumbled back into the shadows of a building. He fell into a pile of trash and began to rummage around for something to cover his rash, even as it continued to get worse.

"Yeah, defiantly vampires," Jake whistled.

"Actually, Jake," Kitt corrected, "They are just very, very, very, very, violently allergic to sunlight. Any amount of light will cause their blood cells to move into a dangerous level of friction and burn in seconds. At this rate, direct sunlight for five minutes will completely burn them and dehydrate all their systems, effectively killing them."

"…So they're vampires?" Jake said.

Michael rolled his eyes in amusement as he opened a Kitt's glove box and pulled out a couple guns, handing one to Jake.

"Just shoot 'em and keep one alive for questioning," Michael instructed. "Kitt, cover our backs."

From there, it was the classic action sequence. Jake was understandably confused when he found that "vampires" still died when shot in the head. Michael came upon the realization that he was going to need a surgeon to reconstruct his nose by the time he was forty. Kitt was amazed when he saw that, without a life within to keep the cells active, that once dead, their attackers' bodies would simply dissolve into nothingness as the cells devoured one another and died, leaving behind a pile of clothes with a mound of dust-like dead cells within.

By the time they were done, most of the ambushers were left as piles of clothes and dead cell-dust on the ground and the trio surrounding a cornered survivor.

"You're not gonna get anything from me! Ya hear me? Nothing!" the man snarled.

Michael and Jake exchanged looks and smiled.

* * *

"I am curious," Kitt said, "How did you know that this would work?"

"Animals always know when something's messed up with someone," Jake assured, "And if this guy isn't messed up, then I don't know _what _is."

"I'm sure Nevada would have loved to be on the action," Michael sighed remorsefully, "Oh well, maybe next time. So, how ya holding up, buddy?"

Their captive screamed.

It hadn't been too difficult in locating a junk yard with big, mean, sharp-toothed pit bull guards and an owner willing to lock the guys up with the pit bulls in a large storage shed with a length of chain and easy-to-put-up fencing.

Now, the prisoner was dangling by his ankles with a chain from a support beam over a trio of angry-looking pit bulls fenced in the center of the large shed. Kitt was parked to the side with the other end of the chain hooked under his front end. Michael and Jake stood about, watching the prisoner wriggle and jump every time the pit bulls jumped up, snapping for his lowered face, all the while snarling and barking like hell hounds. The ends of the purple scarf wrapped around his neck and face were just inches out of the dogs' reach. If they caught even just _that_, the man would be strangled.

"Oww," Michael said, rubbing his head.

"Let me try," Jake said. "Well, no need to be rude, let's start with names. Hi, I'm Jake. That's Michael, that's Kitt, and those guys are your escort to hell unless you answer all my questions truthfully. Got that?"

"I got it! I got it!" the prisoner screamed, "My name is Andy Filler, oh dear go please don't kill me! I can heal, but not entire freaking _limbs_!"

"So, uh, Andy… where's the Genie?" Jake asked.

"Pier 15; go down the drain nearest Pier 15, tap at the yellow brick at the bottom, and go through the tunnel through there to the Genie's base, we got everything there; rec. rooms, sleeping quarters, cafeteria, training rooms, labs, medical bay, a garage; everything!"

"What does the Genie hope to achieve with creating these power ups, like the ones that changed you?" Jake asked.

"To stir things up," Andy went on, becoming calmer as the dogs decided to rest their vocal cords and prowled about below. "He likes how in most stories, a whole bunch of bad guys suddenly become super powered and super evil, like the X-Men bad guys and bad-guy kingdoms in damsel-in-distress stories, so he's making a whole army of super-powered people just to go out an cause chaos. He thinks it'll make the humans stop being a bunch of crying babies or something like that. Oh, and, um, did I mention that I'm not big on the evil-guy thing? Yeah, I'm just a product of my environment and I got no where else to go and—"

"His bio-signatures say that he's lying," Kitt announced.

"Can it, Andy," Jake growled. "Are there any other power ups or special projects? Is he going to share the power ups with anyone? What are his future plans?"

"Well, no, there aren't any other special projects or power ups," Andy said, "I mean, heh, heh, _this_ stuff wasn't easy, you know."

"He speaks the truth," Kitt said.

"As for the power ups, well, I'm not sure, being a drudge and all, but word is that he's gonna sell the power up to armies all over the world to keep his freedom. And, hey, what better way to start up chaos than give a whole bunch of trigger-happy tykes a super bio-weapon?"

Michael felt his stomach turn sickeningly at the way the mutant was so cheerful saying that last bit. War was scary enough with bullets and nukes; what would it be like with super-healing powerhouses sneaking about?

"And as for future plans, eh, he's just gotta dumb down the formula for the army scientists and perfect the little sun-allergy thing and then it's bye-bye normal warfare. That'll take, oh, about another week or two? A month, at the most. After that, he's buying his freedom and a private little island where he can watch the world burn with a fruit drink in one hand and the other…"

The way he finished his sentence made the other men grimace in disgust.

"That was just gross," Michael stated.

Andy burst out laughing at them.

"One more thing, though," Michael said, "Zoe and Rebecca Wild: Those names ring any bells to you?"

"Oh, yeah, the prisoner chicks," Feller said, "Asian chick's been locked up nice and tight since she and her friend almost escape last night. Her friend, though, is playing baby sitter…"

His voice suddenly faded out as he became reluctant to speak.

"Baby sitter to who?" Michael asked.

Feller was silent and Michael made a gesture to Kitt. The chain was released a little and Feller fell a few feet. The dogs, stirred up the favorable sudden move, leaped up, barking and snapping at the scarf. Feller screamed something incoherently, thrashing about on the chain. Kitt pulled the prisoner back out of the dog's reach and Feller spoke, his previous coy attitude replaced with a terrified screech.

"The Cyborg's Uprising!" he yelped, "There's this transforming robot thing that wants to take over the world and make it pro-machine, so he's collecting all these sentient machines together, calling it the Uprising, and training them for war! Oh please dear god, don't drop me!"

"So, the Nissans were telling the truth," Michael muttered.

"Sweet," Jake said, grinning.

Jake's face fell when Michael responded, "No, _not_ sweet. Cars like Kitt may be necessary to fight major threats like Karr; bullet proof armor, self-driving, intelligent…But against regular, unprotected citizens, all it takes is a car with a strong front to run through a sidewalk and cause major damage, even if only one life is taken. Karr knows this, and that's why he's making this army."

"Well, can't Uncle Sam's gun men, the Army and stuff, just take out the rogue rumblers?" Jake asked.

"No," Michael said, getting Feller down from his hanging, "Remember Boomer Wayne, the tank that got you and Negado? If Wayne got out alright, I can imagine that at least _one_ jet on patrol didn't get a reversal broadcast, too. And even then, Karr was able to upgrade himself. It would be just as easy to upgrade some machines into something like him. No, we got to break up that army before it activates."

"So, uh, while you guys are kicking ass and stuff, what are you gonna do with me?" Andy Feller asked.

One word: Trunk.

**Author's Note: Cookies if you noticed the ****Dukes of Hazard**** reference.**


	17. The Threat

**Disclaimer: I do not own Knight Rider or any attached blessings to it. Neither do I own any additionally mentioned culture references, locations, songs, et cetera. Don't forget to review!**

**Chapter 17: The Threat**

Negado vibrated happily when he felt someone finally take out the beaten-up axel joint and replaced it with a nice, cool, smooth, new one. Ah, rust just started to _burn_ after a while! He felt even better when disconnected parts were put back together again, cleaned and repairs. Ah, nothing like having every thing clean and in their place to make you feel fresh and new again! Honestly, it was just _so_ nauseating to have air drifting in freely to his gas tank!

He felt himself being lowered, but didn't bother activating his senses for this either. He just relished in the relaxation of having himself put back together. He whimpered a little in pain when his dented, busted up hood was pulled up and removed, leaving behind a painfully tingly numb feeling behind. But a few quick procedures later and he was humming happily as a new, clean, un-dented hood was put in, effectively shielding his engine and putting a nice weight on his front. It was when the hands began to carefully take his engine apart did he realize he wasn't dreaming and fully awakened.

The strange presence deep with in his on-line computer, controlling his GPS, radio, and heating and cooling systems, reared up and opened up like a blooming flower, spreading awareness through out his metallic body. All around him, he could see the FLAG garage in a peculiar way as tiny vibrations and electrical bursts from everything around him came back to be processed by his attuned body and be translated into imagery by his mind, similar to echo location and bats.

The vision would degrade with age as his frame would become more and more battered and softened with age until he would be blind and too elderly to see to move, unless he was restored. It was this sight that showed that he had finally been lowered to the floor and the human known as Billy was acting on his engine, effectively paralyzing him as his very organs were removed for repair. Normally, Negado would be infuriated that anyone would dare touch his engine, let alone take it apart without his knowledge, but the human had been clever and stealthy in acting while Negado was asleep and giving his mentality a rest.

But what made Negado truly distracted was how he _felt._

The burning touch of rust and the ugly press of dirt in hidden areas were gone, as was the ache of dents and burn of scratches. His tires were not uncomfortably saggy from lack of air or making an awkward nakedness from being completely gone, but had been replaced with fresh, new, crisp tires, still inky black and soft from the factory. The achy-eye feeling of missing and cracked glass was soothed into nothingness as the broken glass, from the windows to the signal lights, had been replaced with crystal-clear sheets. Even his seats had been repaired, removing the belly ache of beaten-down and used seats with fresh stuffing and cleaned leather. All this was relayed to his conscious as his transformed computer gained additional data from special sparks and signals from his very being. It was an amazing feeling.

**"Feeling better?"**

Negado's vision focused on the red Viper known as Ruby. Everything about her said maternal, from the way she followed after Li'le Terror in the garage to her very gently, sweet voice. Her "husband", Equinox, had the same father maternal touch. Negado could sense them both watching him from a few yards away where they were parked with their rear bumpers to the wall. Billy didn't even look up at the cars as they spoke Machine.

_Y-Yeah_, he thought, _A lot, actually._

**"Honey,"** Equinox said, **"You know that the poor car can't speak in that condition. Maybe when Billy's finished with his engine?"**

**"Oh, yes, I forgot,"** Ruby laughed nervously, **"I suppose it's that body; my, how hansom!"**

**"Hey, I thought you loved **_**me**_**!" **Equinox laughed. His headlights flashed as he opened a side door and tapped his "wife" playfully.

From behind the two, the green toy truck drove out of and began to drive fast circles around the car.

**"LT, stop that!"** Ruby scolded, **"It's not nice to tease the nice man!"**

**"I wouldn't call him **_**nice**_**, exactly,"** Equinox protested, **"But your mother's right, LT; stop or you'll get dizzy."**

Negado could tell that Equinox was going to be the type of dad who would be exchanging winks about girl jokes when Li'le Terror was older. For now, though, he sighed when Li'le Terror _did_ get dizzy and slowed down, toppling over onto his side. Right on time, Nevada trotted into the room. Seeing the little guy exposed, he ran forward and swooped the toy truck up in his jaws, trotting off with a proud bounce in his step to go sit under Wayne Boomer.

**"Oh, now the dog's got him again!"** Ruby complained, coming to park right in front of the tank, **"You let my boy go, you nasty dog!"**

**"Don't worry, honey, the dog won't hurt him,"** Equinox assured, **"He doesn't even chew the boy; he just paws him around a little."**

Nevada let Li'le Terror go and nudged him forward with his nose. When the toy truck backed up, the dog pushed him away again, and on they went.

"Er-hem, ah, ma'am?" Wayne asked nervously, "You're might close there."

"What, is that some sort of taboo?" Billy asked.

"Eh, not a taboo, exactly; jus' somethin' kinda awkward like. I mean, machines get stuck butt-to-face in traffic all the time, okay. It's jus' somethin' personal and awkward t' be facin' face-t'-face. Umm, it's like lines. Yeah, lines! You can stand in a line facin' someone else's back fer hours, right? But what if ya had ta face someone in the line fer hours?"

"I'd start feeling creeped out," Billy said.

"Right! So, ah, Miss Ruby, if you will?"

**"Oh, alright,"** Ruby sighed, backing up.

"Thank you, ma'am," Wayne replied with a gentlemanly lift and drop of his barrel.

**"But if that dog hurts my little boy, squish him!"**

**"Ruby!"**

Wayne burst out laughing at this while Equinox scolded his wife and Billy begged for a translation of the joke. Watching them, Negado couldn't help but feel a stirring of warmth. Sure, some of these guys were his captors, or had even all-out _shot him_, but all was fair in warfare, and the way everyone was close was just touching. It was cute, watching Ruby and Equinox tail such a little thing like Li'le Terror, and how even the tank handled the kid with care and uncle-like fondness.

As a race car, Negado had always thought it would be safer to drive solo; less likely chance of crashing that way. But in a pack, there would be others there to help him out if he got off the road. It was a big decision, and with Billy fixing and cleaning his engine, he had a long time to think about it.

* * *

"Okay, let's run down the file, and do basics only."

"The purpose of the Federation of Law and Government is to catch high-profile criminals, terrorists, and stop their plots. It's run by Sarah Graiman, daughter of Dr. Graiman. Their main agent is Michael Knight with the Knight Industries Two Thousand, an intelligent computer-controlled Ford Shelby GT500KR Mustang created by Dr. Graiman. With them are Billy and Zoe, their intelligence officers. There is also Benjamin Spencer, famed car and weapons collector and car commercial designer, and his secretary, Rebecca Wild. They appear to be assistant agents. There is one more computer-controlled known as Cadge, the Cyber Android of Demolitions Games Expert, originally made by Masquerade Incorporated until he went rogue and joined FLAG. Among their machines, they have a M60A1 Patton tank, a Dodge Viper SRT10, and a Nissan GT-R."

"Do any of them have criminal records?"

"The cars don't have official police records, but they've broken several traffic laws several times and Spencer and Knight have done many acts of violence, public disturbance, and destruction of property, with all serious crimes on Knight's records."

"Good. All possible crimes we have evidence of?"

"Tax evasion, manipulation of the law, bribery, assisting criminals in avoidance of arrest, smuggling, one case of trespassing on private government property with twelve additional _suspected_ breaking, entering, and trespassing of private facilities, one _known _case of murder, six of accidental man slaughter, 224 personal injuries cases, 336 property damage cases, 76 trafficking violations in Maine alone—"

"That will do. With _that_ much evidence, by the time the court's through with them, they'll never see green fields again!"

"Mr. Head, sir may I inquire of something?"

"Why, yes, my dear secretary, certainly go ahead!"

"Well, sir, the American government does worse damage than this in a _week_ with countless wanted man chases that often end in failure, and this is FLAG's record in, what, three, four years of activity? Why is it that they are being picked on for crimes we get to just wave away?"

" 'Picked on'? What is this, Chrissie, the playground with the big bullies picking on the little new guys?"

"Well, when you put it that way, yes—"

"Miss. Chrissie Stand, FLAG is not an official government office. It never filed the proper paper work, it never went through any government house, and it never even was mentioned to the president. Their name shows that they were not aware of the fact that all FLAG has been is a group of crime fighters, vigilantes without masks, if you will, who have been _greatly_ assisting the government in its crusade against crime.

"But in recent times, they have begun to slip, to become an informal band of heroes who are more than willing to get their hands dirty to get the job done. Normally, I would applaud this, but there is no safety net of an official office name to justify them. If we don't stop them now, they will soon justify robbing to pay the bills, and needless murder to prevent crime."

"But Mr. Head, sir, Ms. Graiman has an enormous fortune from her father—"

"More than one rich person has gone off in robbery for the joy of it, Ms. Stand, and this will be no different unless we do something about it! It's best to kill the weed at the roots _before_ it spreads and poisons the rest of the lawn, as it's done Ms. Wild and Mr. Spencer. Hence, we are taking the FLAG down and folding it up for a ceremonial _burning_."

"And… of the machines, Mr. Head sir what will happen to them?"

"Well, there's no doubt in the fact that the Kitt car of Dr. Graiman is a revolutionary bit of equipment that, combined with the technologies in the Cadge and Karr cars, could create a brand new, super advanced field of weapons. Imagine it! Bullet proof cars capable of turning into other cars for perfect spying abilities with on-board weaponry, and being able to turn it into an exoskeleton suit of battle armor for _real_ fighting! We could send an agent into enemy cities under the 'guise of a regular car, show up and sneak into a posh party of enemy leaders with a super car, and when the stuff hits the fan, he could jump into his car and presto-change-o! He could wipe out an entire squadron of lesser troops in his exoskeleton!"

"You make it sound like you want this weaponry to go online against developed countries. I thought we were only fighting the Middle East?"

"Oh, hush, Ms. Stand, you don't know what I'm talking about.

"My point is that the vehicles must be confiscated for the bettering of the American defense forces and FLAG has become too dangerous for its own good and must be dissolved."

"Mr. Head, sir…"

"_What_, Ms. Stand?"

"…We have the best military force and technology in the _world_. What do we need mecha suits for?"

. . .

"You will understand someday, Ms. Stand. Now, if you will excuse me, I must give this evidence to suitable parties…"

"But—"

_Tap, tap, tap, squee—shut._

. . .

"But is FLAG a threat to the country, or you?"

**Author's Note:**** About the whole FLAG's-not-official-thing: Come on, you don't think that it was **_**that**_** easy to make an official office after the dying of Knight Industries? They certainly don't have a form for it! So, it would make sense that without Stark—I mean Knight Industries in work, it **_**can't**_** be as easy as declaring "hey, we're a government federation now!" The other feds saw them as rather good tools for taking out bad guys and threats and let them be. Plus, they didn't have anything better in their assets than an untraceable group of butt kickers with a super advanced car.**


	18. Capture and Cancer

**Disclaimer: I do not own Knight Rider or any attached blessings to it. Neither do I own any additionally mentioned culture references, locations, songs, et cetera. Don't forget to review!**

**Chapter 18: Capture and Cancer**

While Negado had awoken with all his pains gone, Cadge awoke with all his pains _there_. Groaning in pain, he forced his drained energy systems about and shifted out of his Acura mode, returning to his Porsche form. His self-repair systems activated in synch with his transforming sequence, repairing him as he changed. He sighed in relief when the pain died, but exhaustion swept back over him: He needed gas or a light socket to plug into to replenish his energies.

He activated his sensors and prepared to move, when he realized that his tires had been placed on a moving platform. Every time he tried to roll one way or the other, the surface would move beneath him so that he was held stationary, no matter how slow or fast he moved. At the corners of the surface were metal poles sticking out of the floor. He was in a large glass box with large metal slabs bracing the outside to his left and right.

His looked about and found that his platform-glass box was in a big room, surrounded by men and women in protective laboratory gear and computers on desks. A flash back reminded him of the "good old days" in Masquerade Labs, being forced to park stationary as a computerized machine gave him extremely painful and precise tune ups with a coldness that defied even a machine's emotions.

He honked long and loud as his sirens and lights went off in a scream. The scientists jumped and looked up nervously at him. He stopped shortly after as his drained systems couldn't even scream.

"Where am I?" he shouted, "Who are you? What do you want from me?"

A dark-haired man in a black suit entered then, carrying a small remote. He pressed a button on the remote and holes in the glass box closed up, locking his cries inside the box with him. Cadge couldn't hear what was going on outside, but he could lip read easily enough.

"I will be going to prosecute the 'Federation of Law and Government' now!" he called out, making it sound like a joke, "Do make a good day better for me and have some rough draft blue prints of this thing on my desk by seven at sundown, and I'll see about increasing your pay!"

He made a final gesture to Cadge before tossing the remote to a scientist and leaving. Cadge's engine stuttered and spluttered unhappily as terror continued to grow in him.

_Alone,_ he realized, _oh dear mother of roads and father of rubber, I'm alone and back at square one: helpless and in a lab, being dissected for technological advancements. Ooh, __damn__ the deity who cursed me to be made to suffer this fate! But now is no time for blasphemies; I need all the divine intervention I can to get out of here!_

Cadge attempted to stick out his tentacles, only to receive and Error message; his version of a conscious.

**Error: Your tentacles were ripped out by a homicidal awkwardly-human-obsessed transforming robot KARR, remember?**

Oh, yeah.

Cadge attempted to use his weaponry, but one of the steel rods rising from the floor in the corner spat out a ray of energy, thoroughly electrocuting Cadge's damage sensors. The energy tricked Cadge's sensors into thinking it was in major danger and translated the data to Cadge's mind as pain. Cadge screamed in pain, his grille stretching up and down in an instinctive motion while his head lights narrowed in pain. This image of torment made many of the scientists shift from foot to foot as their guilt nibbled at them.

"I know it's weird and scary," the remote-controlling scientist said sadly, "But it's either him or our jobs."

The others nodded reluctantly and they went to work, making Cadge drive about on his platform prison to test his abilities.

* * *

While Cadge had awoken to feelings of terror and despair, Karr had woken with a feeling, of, well, to put it bluntly, pissed off. He remembered a time, long ago, when he was still a near-mindless drone learning about the world from inside a secret lab, and all the tests he had been forced to under go time and time again until his personality and intelligence had developed enough to express how annoying he thought it was. He knew what would happen; he would be forced to run lap after lap of a controlled track for weeks on end, until his parts were falling off and breaking and all he wanted to do was to become a mere computer desk top icon, and that was only the _beginning_.

Now, here he was, chained up like a beast and about to do it all again like a white lab rat instead of a white armored automaton. Well to hell with that! Like he was going to bow to these fleshlings' wishes and hop through their hoops and poke him with their tools? _He_ knew where they could stick their damn tools!

Karr's laboratory was larger, and while his platform was similar, it was larger, and at the moment, he was trapped in humanoid form with chains around his neck and waist, holding him still. He had managed to resist the electrical pole's pain enough to swipe out and completely shatter the glass, leaving him in the open air, but beyond that, the pain was too much for the weakened giant to resist.

It was this sight that Mr. Head saw when he entered the laboratory.

"Well, well, well, Mr. Karr! Welcome to hell!" he cried out.

"You like it? Come over here, I have a _nice_ pit of acid for you to bathe in you worthless blood grub!" Karr roared.

"See to it that I have a rough draft blue print of him on my desk by seven, sundown," Mr. Head yelled over Karr's thrashing at a scientist before leaving.

Karr emitted a lion-like roar after Mr. Head as he left.

* * *

Jake insisted that he and Michael get thigh-high rubber boots and other supplies before they "went underground like the TMNT", and, unsurprisingly, they found some with in ten steps of where they had stood. They got small backpacks with flashlights, spare batteries, small, disposable gas-masks (in case of sewer fumes), and gloves. Izago had failed to show up or return any calls. When Michael looked to the rising full moon and remembered what he had been told of Izago, and Izago's giggle, he decided that it would be best if they _didn't_ have Izago around. Kitt remained parked in the shadows of an alley near the pier, awaiting any future orders from Michael.

After a good long restoring nap, at sun down the men got to Pier 15 and found the sewer grate on the road neat the pier. Jake kept watch while Michael pried the large, heavy, rusting grate from the grip of the pavement and lifted it for Jake to slip into. At some point, they got to talking about the Genie's henchmen again.

"I'm telling you, Mike: Super healing, strength, and speed, and being, like, super allergic to the sun is total vampire behavior!" Jake whispered as they climbed down a ladder bolted to the mossy wall.

"That's ridiculous, Jake; vampires don't exist," Michael replied, looking over his shoulder at the sewer to check for henchmen… or gators.

"And neither did sentient machines at one time. But they totally run around now!"

"Sentient mechanical life was an inevitable occurrence with the progress of technology; vampires are mythical creatures and an imagination coping tool for old time civilizations so that they could invent rituals like wearing garlic to make themselves feel better and boost moral."

He noticed that Jake had stopped and looked down at the man. Jake was staring up at him.

"What?" he asked.

"You know, with the total lack of facial expressions and ultimate hitting record you got going on, I was convinced you were a part-brain-dead goon and not actually smart," Jake informed.

To this, Michael actually managed a smile and mimed a kick at Jake's head.

"Yeah, I'll make _you_ brain dead if you don't get going."

Jake chuckled and they made their way to the bottom of the shaft. Michael found that he was extremely glad that Jake had suggested the thigh-high boots; the salty sewer water came up to just above their knees. It actually took a large part of Michael's manliness not to jump back up on the ladder squealing "eww". Opposite the wall with the ladder and to its left and right were two additional tunnels just barely large enough for a slim, full-grown man to wriggle down on their stomachs. The space was so small that Michael and Jake had to stand, back-to-back to actually fit.

"So, now what?" Jake asked. "I mean, do I look for the first gator or what?"

"Please don't joke like that," Michael said, imagining _Lake Placid_ and Gustave the Saltwater Croc monster, "Uh, we look for a yellow brick and press it."

"Right, yellow, um, I see…" Jake fumbled about in his pocket and drew out a flashlight, one of two they had bought. He cupped his hand over the top to minimize its upward glow and flashed it around on the wall. Michael got his pair of gloves and flashlight from his backpack, putting on the gloves before he began to look as Jake did.

"Right," he started again, "I see green, brown, green, brown, crap…"

"I think I see some graffiti here," Michael announced.

He reached out and brushed some of the grime off of the stone.

"Huh, it says 'Oz will return', with the last 'r' backwards. Weird, it looks kind of new… Hey, there it is!"

Just below the small, simple graffiti was a yellow brick. Jake twisted his waist around to see as Michael bent and pressed on the brick. The bright yellow brick grave in a few inches and a crunch and grinding of gears muffled by concrete and pavement could be heard inside. The two moved back a little as a round section on the graffiti spun the graffiti upside down, moved in, and slid aside. Beyond was a long narrow tunnel made of well-polished yellow cobblestone disappearing into the distance and lit by small yellow lights in the roof. It was just big enough for them to crawl in on their hands and knees.

"Well, let's go," Michael said, climbing into the tunnel.

"Don't pass gas," Jake warned, following Michael.

They had just gotten a few feet into the tunnel when the door shut behind them, locking them in. They didn't even exchange looks as they crawled on. Suddenly, Jake stopped again and began snickering. Michael rolled his eyes as he turned to look back.

"What is it _this_ time?" he whispered.

"Wizard of Oz," Jake snickered, "It's the freaking Wizard of Oz!"

Michael's look showed that he didn't understand.

"The Genie loves fiction? Wizard of Oz!" Jake smacked the yellow cobblestones and lifted his hands up in a part-shrug ta-da gestured as he grinned at Michael. "Follow the yellow brick road!"

It dawned on Michael and he snickered, leading the way on.

* * *

Meanwhile, poor Andy Feller was stuck inside of Kitt's trunk. All attempts to bust out had been met with sore knuckles and cracked ankles that healed quickly. But being in the utter blackness, it wasn't so bad. He was just bored.

"So," he huffed, "Who's up for a round of _King Henry?_"

"No thank you, I am more curious of your biological nature and the effects the Genie's experimenting has done on it," Kitt said.

Feller felt a nervous energy zip across him; he still wasn't used to sentient machines, no matter how many he was around. Suddenly, a vision of Kitt chucking him out of the trunk and running over him over and over and over again made his heart beat spiked. He would probably heal from it, but one only had so much healing abilities before one's super cells said "frick it, I quit".

"Well, ah, er, okay, um, w-what do you want to know?" he asked.

"Why are you wearing such heavy winter clothing, especially in someplace as hot as Florida?" Kitt asked. "Most humans would have suffered from heat stroke with such excess covering.

Feller was wearing black boots, dark jeans, dark brown, heavy genuine leather jacket with matching hawker gloves, a purple scarf concealing his neck and lower face, with dark tinted ski goggles and a specially-made skin-tight black ski mask to cover the rest of his head, not to mention black under armor under all of _that;_ excess seemed like an understatement.

"Well, ya see Kitt," Feller said, removing the goggles to rest on his forehead. He stared at the underside of Kitt's trunk door as he spoke, slipping into a more relaxed state as he entered into a familiar and even popular subject among the Genie's men. "It takes a _whole _lot of energy for cells to regenerate, and even_ more_ energy is required so that the brain can fully activate all muscles at all time to make guys like me faster and stronger. What the Genie's special serum did was basically tell our bodies: Hey! Permanent danger! Move! Move! Move! Move! And, obviously, this is constantly putting us on a buzz that makes us jumpy, swaying from being angry to happy to sad like _that_."

He snapped his fingers; an impressive feat for when one's fingers are gloved.

"But there are down sides; we can't control our power, which means that we can't control when and how much energy we put into it. So we have to eat _huge_ amounts of calories to keep ourselves alive, or we'll die of starvation with in hours. In the early days, three nice, large, raw beef livers a day gave us a nice pick-me up to stay alive—"

_"__Raw__ livers, blood and all?"_ Jake called out over the radio, _"Emphasis on __blood__? Michael—"_

_"Shut up, Jake, they're not vampires."_

"Since then, though, the Genie's made a miracle pill that maximized what ever calories we get so that we could go for a week without food and not even notice. Hey, tell your buddies down there that if they see them, grab as many green pills as they can! If you guys are gonna take down the Genie, then at least give me a fighting chance?"

"I will do so when you give reason that we can trust you. Continue with your lecture on your powers."

A brief dart of despair rushed through Feller at the denial, but he went on.

"Another down side is that, while our cells are super gun-ho about saving the day with healing and all, they just don't have the energy and stuff to resist sunburn anymore. So, yeah, unless you have a sun lotion with a protection, of, like, _600_, we got to stay in absolute darkness or cover up at _all_ times. We always burn a little on the face, because we _have_ to take off the mask to eat _sometime_. With the constant burning and healing of our faces, some of us get infections on our mouths so that it looks like something from a zombie movie; exposed muscles, dry, and gross. I only eat in darkness like this, though, so I'm cool. Oh, and we _all_ have some red burn around our eyes or even have dried, completely-white eyes; no goggles can completely block out the light enough to protect us without being useless.

"Another down side is that we're all going to die young. This stuff is a constant metabolism, bro! Either we age fast and die or we'll be riding high one day when our bodies will decide, 'frick it, I'm not dealing with this any more!' and punch out the clock. And when that day happens, like a car not stopping when you want it to because it's going to fast, the cells won't have the energy they're constantly begging for when the body dies and will actually eat each other for energy before just shorting out and dying instantly."

"That explains why your bodies turned to dust when you were killed," Kitt commented.

_"HA! I TOLD you that they were vampires, Michael!"_ Jake shouted over the radio.

"Jake: Hush and pay attention to the mission."

"Oh, and there's one more thing I almost forgot," Feller added, "The serum eats cancer."

Everyone listening did a double take, including Jake and Michael from their ear bud radios.

_"Bull shit," _Michael said, exchanging looks with Jake.

"No, I'm serious!" Feller said, sitting up as best he could in Kitt's trunk, "The cells are so nuts about protecting the body and getting energy that they'll freaking _eat the cancer cells_ for both! That's how the Genie got so many guys on his side, you know."

Feller's tone took on a sad, woeful one.

"There are all these guys just laying around _dying_ and no one to help them, then, poof! The Genie appears and grants their wishes for health, strength, and adventure. You realize how much it just _sucks_ to lie in a bed day after day, aching because something is fricking with you and you can't do anything about it and all your family and friends can do is arrange your funeral? You went through hell and back, sacrificing what little health you _did_ have to try fixing your self and it _still_ doesn't work! So, who do you turn to when the doctors have failed, God isn't answering your prayers, and the Devil isn't around to make a deal with?"

"You accept health from the Genie," the Kitt suggested.

"Yeah," Feller said. He lied back down with his fingers linked under his head, "If someone pops into your room one night and says he has a magic cure in the needle in his hand, you just have to swear loyalty to him, you don't think about how odd or suspicious it is. You think, 'frick it, I'm gonna be dead anyway. Shoot me up'. And, when the cure really _does_ work, you're so happy for it, you just follow him out like a puppy, regardless of how much it burns to be in light, or how strung you are, or hungry you are, because it all means that you're _alive_ when and where all else had failed and who freaking _cares?_ You're alive! That's all that matters!"

There was a deep, respecting silence from the FLAG members.

"So, the power serum the Genie plans on mass-distributing can increase healing and physical capabilities and cure cancer at the price of a high metabolism, unstable mood swings, and a short life period. And, because the Genie is a master herbalist, this is probably all organic in nature. With such a creation, it would merely need so many tweaks and careful alterations before its side effects would be greatly weakened or even removed entirely. The only thing that baffles me is how the Genie made it all out of _completely_ organic compounds. He is truly a genius if he has such powers."

"A genius and a savior," Feller sighed, his eyes closed, "A genius, a savior, a leader, but all in the wrong direction." He opened his eyes. "Kind of like Hitler."

"If you know what the Genie is doing is wrong, then why don't you stop him or leave?" Kitt asked.

"Dude, bros before hoes, man."

"_Amen to that, brother."_

"Jake—"

"_I know, I know, shutting up now…"_

"And besides, the man _saved my life_. I'd be even lower than him if I just ditched him. I owe him."

_"You don't own anyone anything if they're ready to ditch you as soon as use you,"_ Michael objected.

"Really? And you think you're so different_ Mr. Knight_? Everyone knows the legend of your past, and while there are many variations, most end in the same way: With you being ditched."

Michael wanted to object, but he couldn't help but remember how he had been thrown out when Karr had failed, only to be picked up for Kitt, and fired when Knight Industries dissolved. Feller had a point: He had worked for the guys who dropped him like he was hot when things got rough and claimed that it was in thanks for giving him purpose.

It was at this moment when Kitt got the message.

**Author's Note: Do to personal situations, the story will be on temporary haitus. I'll be back as soon as I have the rest of the story written...**


	19. The Stuff Hits the Fan

**Little Voice: **"Hey, you remember that life on FanFiction? How about that one story you left hanging?" **l: (**

**Me: **"Now I do, but it's not a very well do-" **: ^**

**Little Voice: **"Finish it." **D:**

**Me: **"Aw, F it-reviewers can critique me and I can always come back and fix s**t up."** T_T**

**Little Voice: **"That's the spirit." **L.L**

Ladies and gentleman…the final two chapters of my needs-to-be-redone-and-simplified-Knight Rider sequel. Sorry for dropping off the face of the Earth on ya'll.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Knight Rider or any attached blessings to it. Neither do I own any additionally mentioned culture references, locations, songs, et cetera. Don't forget to review!**

**Chapter 19: The Stuff Hits the Fan**

Mr. Head and his agents stormed the place before anyone knew what was happening. Sarah, Spencer, and Nevada all stood up from their seats as the army-uniformed men swarmed in, disconnecting equipment and handcuffing them before they could so much as object.

"Hey-!" Sarah exclaimed, "What is the meaning of this?"

"Sarah Graiman, you and all your team mates are under arrest and all your possessions are being taken into official custody," Mr. Head said, looking rather smug, "Your charges include destruction of private and public property, physical assault and battery, unauthorized use of firearms, numerous traffic law violations—"

"You're _arresting us_?" Sarah exclaimed, "We're a government operation!"

"No you're not, Ms. Graiman; you never filed the paper work," Mr. Head, openly smiling, "Take them away, boys! I want everything in this base packed and labeled with in two hours—"

Nevada suddenly charged, barking, at the men holding Sarah and bit at one of their legs. The bit soldier yelled out and let go of Sarah in an attempt to shake Nevada off. Spencer took advantage of the distraction to throw his soldiers off and head butting another, thus starting the fight.

In the garage, Billy looked up from where he was putting the final touches on Negado. He could hear the growing racket from here.

"Sounds like we got company bad," Wayne growled, aiming his barrel to the garage entrance, "Everyone scram out th' back entrance; I'll hold 'em off."

Equinox and Ruby revved their engines nervously and Equinox opened his passenger door. Li'le Terror rolled over and somehow managed to shake his frame enough to bounce him into the car. Equinox shut the door behind Li'le Terror and led the way for Ruby up the back ramp to the tunnel and the surface. Billy, meanwhile, slammed the hood shut on Negado and kicked aside some tools on the ground, picking up a large wrench as he did.

"Alright, you're ready, Negado; get out of here while you still can," Billy ordered, "Wayne and I will take care of who ever is huffing, puffing, and blowing our house down."

"You're letting me go?" Negado asked, amazed, "Just like that?"

"Yes, now go!" Billy yelled, running out of the garage to the main 'quarters.

Negado remained parked in shock, but soon slowly began rolling, going the way Ruby and Equinox had taken.

Billy came to the main lair to find Spencer head butting and Sarah kicking numerous military soldiers while Nevada chewed and nipped at several others. He didn't understand why they were handcuffed and being attacked by military personnel, but he knew that his friends needed help. Swinging his wrench, Billy swallowed nervously before jumping into the fight…

And he was promptly knocked out by an elbow to the face.

Sarah ran over to the cylinder frame platform reserved for Kitt and hooked her handcuffs on one of the horns there reserved for hanging tools. With a quick yank she managed to snap the delicate chain, freeing her hands. She dodged soldiers as she ran to the control table and pressed a button on a keyboard, opening up communications to Kitt.

"Kitt! Michael!" she shouted, "FLAG is being arrested and shut down by federal agents! We need help—"

A soldier came up behind Sarah and struck a gun to the back of her head, knocking her out. Spencer found the barrels of several guns pointed at his face, forcing himself to freeze. Nevada stood by him, baring bloody teeth at the soldiers in a low, ceaseless growl.

"Now," Mr. Head growled, "with _that_ pointless drama resolved, let's get you all into cells and that _mutt_ into a _pound_ for _processing,_ shall we?"

An explosion rang out to the side.

"And someone take care of the tank."

* * *

Equinox, Ruby, Li'le Terror, and Negado parked behind a collection of desert bushes, watching from a distance as the humans, Nevada, and all of FLAG's equipment was loaded up into numerous army trucks and jeeps. After a heated battle, Wayne Boomer was towed out and onto a flat bed truck, strapped down, and covered with a tarp. Li'le Terror's electric motor began whining in a cry and Equinox's engine purred to comfort him.

The army had just left when Bob "Chill" Crackers came flying by over head. When he spoke through their radios, his usual cheery attitude was absent.

"_Dude, we totally got screwed over by the feds, yo."_

Agreeing rumbles came from the machines. Ruby revved her engine in question.

"_What __can__ we do? I mean, sure, we're machines, which is totally hot, but we're just too big to do anything, and without hands or thumbs to work locks, we're hosed! Unless… Negado, would the Silver Bullets help us?"_

"Hard to tell," Negado said, "But if things were described in a round-about way, I think they might, why, do you think they can do anything?"

"_Whatever we can't do they can," _Chill responded, _"Pack up Li'le Terror and lead the way to their base! We got some things to make better…"_

* * *

"Sarah? Sarah!" Kitt called, "Are you there Sarah? Blast it; the connections' been cut!"

"Why would the feds come after us now, of all times, and why?" Michael muttered.

"Maybe it's because you're getting too close to the Genie?" Jake asked, "I can imagine that the freak has a deal going on under the table with 'em. So, now what do we do? Go on to kick Genie butt or what?"

Michael contemplated for a moment before answering, "Yeah, we go on, take out the Genie, rescue Zoe and Wild, then we go after the others. Maybe if we prove that we're still good guys by bringing in the Genie they'll let us go."

"Doubt it, but go on," Jake sighed, probing at Michael's back to keep him moving down the tunnel.

They came to the end of the tunnel, finally, as they spoke and came out to find themselves in a green-styled 1940's kitchen. Curious, Michael opened a cabinet and found not spices and cereal, but everything from grenades to gun ammo inside. The Genie sure had a weird lay out for things.

"What do you mean by that?" Michael asked, taking out a grenade and clipping it to his belt.

"Meaning," Jake replied, "The feds have less honor than the rats they take out. They'll take any freebies from you and leave _you_ behind to take the heat. Hey…" He opened the oven, "They got bullet proof vests in here."

"Put them on," Michael ordered, "And what else do you recommend we do with the federal agents, whom I have been working for, by the way, are so sneaky and low?"

"My plan of action is this," Jake replied, strapping the vest on, "Rescue our guys, then disappear, vanish, vamoose! Let _them_ go on the secret missions while _you're_ sipping martinis in the tropics."

"None of us could do that, Jake, and you know it," Michael sighed, slipping into his own vest and pocketing some ammo that matched his gun, "Taking down bad guys is too much of our lives to just drop. Sure, we could _stop_ crimes if we went rogue, but then not only will we be proving the federals' worst fears, but we'll be unable to actually arrest the criminals or bring them to proper justice. We'd be no better than them with us ruling by force."

"Michael, Michael, Michael," Jake chuckled, "You're thinking too black and white here! There _are_ ways of keeping the crooked in a straight line _without_ having to pop caps or being a tyrannical pimp! You just gotta know who owes you what for how much and make some deals with demons."

They looked up as they heard approaching feet outside the killer kitchen. Michael made a motion and he and Jake rushed to stand on either side of the door, weapons at ready. Who ever would come in wouldn't see them unless they were looking directly to their left or right, and by then it would be too late.

Well, that was how it was _supposed_ to work. The door swung open and Michael and Jake tensed, preparing to pounce on the entering henchmen. There was an almost awkward pause as no one came in or made a noise before a small squad of henchmen suddenly leaped in, tackling Michael and Jake and pinning them to the floor. Michael managed to squeeze off a few shots before he was taken down, and while there was a definite bang with each shot, nothing came out to harm their ambushers. Their equipment was stripped from them as the Genie entered with the cool, cocky sway of one who is confident in a victory.

"Ah, poor, poor Mr. Knight," the Genie chuckled darkly, "Didn't you think that if I put the effort in for a super serum and a yellow brick road tunnel, I would think of installing _cameras_ into said tunnel? Sorry for getting your hopes up with the weapons of blank shells, but I can't resist a good _joke_. I'll make sure to thank Feller by letting him live; you've been quite a nuisance to catch, Mr. Knight, but now that we have you, it'll be a simple matter of some mind-control drugs and handing you over to Karr."

"Didn't you hear?" Michael asked, "Karr got captured by the feds."

"As well as your partner, Cadge," the Genie confirmed, crouching to be more level with Michael, "Which is why I'm going to grant a wish: I need you and Karr's Uprising, and you want Cadge and the rest of FLAG free. My deal is if you turn yourself over to myself and allow things to unfold, I will use my power to rescue _everyone_ caught by those self-serving Men In Black. It's not a bad deal, Mr. Knight: Your friends, your lover; your wish granted in return for your freedom. What say you: Have we a deal?"

Michael didn't want to agree, but if what he had last heard was correct, Sarah was in danger, as well as Spencer, Billy, Equinox's family, and everyone else at FLAG. Without them, he, Kitt, and Jake were useless without back up or guidance. On top of that, what other option was there? They couldn't get out of this jam all on their own; at least if he agreed, he would be going in on his own free will.

"…_make some deals with demons."_

Michael took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly before opening them to glare at the Genie. He finally went limp in his captors' grip.

"Alright," he said, "I surrender. Just, please, let my friends go."

"That's a boy," the Genie chuckled darkly, motioning for everyone to rise.

* * *

Wild was getting a Chrysler and Ford to admit their feelings to one another when the guards came to fetch her. Zoe was awoken from a tranquilizer nap in a cell when the guards hauled her limp, numb body from it. Both girls were blind folded, spun around to disorient them, and brought top side before being set free at what appeared to be the docks of New Orleans. Without ceremony or show they were thus set free, with their mysteriously bound-up guards disappearing into the shadows without a word. In a few short moments, Jake was also brought out and turned loose.

"Who are you?" Zoe asked.

"I'm Jake Nelson," he said, "One of the guys who helped kidnap you and—look, it's a long story, and I swear that I'll explain everything as soon as we find a ride and get going. The Genie's got Michael and the stuff is about to hit the fan at full speed, come on! We parked Kitt somewhere this way…"

* * *

Meanwhile, a caravan of Uprising trucks and what few bullet-proof vehicles were making their way north as fast as they could with Uprising police cruisers posing as escort, all crammed full with guns and Genie's vampire-like henchmen. Few people bothered to glance at the caravan twice; they did not know of the potential danger and death it held.

In the lead truck, an old-but-strong rusting yellow truck, the Genie sat behind the driver's wheel with his hands linked behind his head in content. In the passenger's seat, clutching a large shot gun to himself like a dearly beloved, was Jerald, and between them was an unconscious Michael. In the back, Natasha sat with a freed and un-bound Andy Feller. The way he checked over his gun, with quick, precise movements and procedures, showed that he was perfectly at ease.

The Genie turned and slid open the back window so that he could speak with Natasha and Andy, yelling over the wind.

"Are you _sure_ that Karr was captured by Mr. Head's team?" he asked.

"Yeah, Knight and his partners kept talking about it," Andy replied, "Last message they got from their HQ was an SOS from their leader, Sarah."

"How clever, they put a woman in charge," Natasha said smugly. "That explains why FLAG is so successful so much of the time."

"Just because one woman is a good leader doesn't count the same for you, Natasha," Jerald said coolly.

While their faces were covered, one could feel the air getting uncomfortably warm between the two.

"So, boss, what's the plan?" Andy asked, "You just kind of grabbed me from the Kitt-car and ran without dropping the 411. And, by the way, I heard you got deals working under the table with the feds, is that true?"

It was a bold question, but with the war party drawing ever closer to more action and his adrenaline levels rising, he felt bold.

"Mr. Head of State and I and some other third parties made a deal a long time ago that they would look away long enough for me to make something of use to them: the serum that gave you and your brothers your capabilities."

Andy wanted to point out that he wasn't related to any of the other henchmen, but he got the idea of the metaphor and kept quiet.

"I make the serum, sell it off, let my 'partners' start a war with it, the human race gets a little cleaner and the world is given worthy legends once more," the Genie summarized. "It's a wonderful deal. Of course, I never expected the Head to capture Karr—I mean, the _Cyborg—_as an experiment, but whatever floats his boat. Now that the serum is ready for mass-production, I can hand it over for the Cyborg, give Michael to him, and let his Uprising add some sprinkles to our soon-to-be-bloody sundae."

"Woha, the serum's finished?" Andy asked, amazed, "No sun burn or nothing?"

"Oh, there's still a bad case of sun burn," the Genie chuckled, grinning devilishly under his scarf, "But we have to give the mortals a _fighting chance_, no?"

The truck's engine chugged oddly in a sort of throat clear before its voice drifted from the radio.

"Uh, pardon me, sir," the truck said in a cautious male voice, "But what if Mr. Head refuses to turn the Cyborg back over?"

"Well, then," the Genie chuckled darkly, spreading his hands, "That's when the guns come in."

* * *

So the situation was thus: Equinox, Ruby, Li'le Terror, Negado, and Bob "Chill" Crackers were making their way to the hidden government base where their unfairly arrested team mates were being taken.

Sarah Graiman, Benjamin Spencer, Billy, Wayne Boomer, and Nevada were being taken under federal custody to a secret base. There, Cadge and Karr were undergoing experimentation to begin a process in which they would be reverse engineered and copied for military purposes.

The Genie and his caravan of killers, along with his second-in-command Jerald and third-in-command Natasha were making their way to the said-base with a recently captured and drugged Michael Knight to free Karr and make deals that could very well crumble the modern world.

A recently-freed Zoe, Rebecca Wild, and Jake Nelson were riding Kitt as they chased after the Genie's caravan with the goal of rescuing Michael and then the rest of their team mates.

If worse came to worse, the Genie's power up serum would be mass-produced and sold to numerous unstable militaristic parties from which it could cause all sorts of chaos, and Karr's army of sentient machines, called the Uprising, would cause mayhem against humans in the streets. On top of that, the mechanical members of FLAG would be destroyed and their human counterparts imprisoned for life.

For things to come to the best, FLAG needed to rally itself back together, defeat the Genie and Karr's Uprising, and prove their innocence to the federal powers that held them. But the way things were going now, it would take a miracle for such a thing to happen…


	20. The EndFor Now

**Disclaimer: I do not own Knight Rider or any attached blessings to it. Neither do I own any additionally mentioned culture references, locations, songs, et cetera. **

**Chapter 20: End…for Now**

Cadge had figured out how to save himself once he had calmed down his laboratory phobia enough to think, but by then he had received word of FLAG's arrest and realized that escape would be a bit more complicated. Now the scientists were leaving for the evening and drawing straws on who would be the unlucky sucker to tell Mr. Head that they had failed to make even a crude blue print of Cadge's interior and leaving Cadge in his dangerous glass box. But even when he was left alone, the box's bottom kept right up with Cadge when he tried to move. Settling down on his tires, he took a deep breath through his heating and cooling system and began to meditate on a plan.

"Okay," he muttered, "I have no weapons, I have no allies, and I know how to get out of here, but what about the others? If what the white lab coat men say is true, then Wayne is in no condition to move and I just can't abandon him! Come on, Cadge, think! Think!"

He sat there for a few minutes, but was unable to comprehend a way to rescue a disabled tank. He fretted over whether or not he would go to Car Hell for leaving Wayne behind on purpose. Shutting off his optical sensors, he locked himself inside a virtual blackness.

"Alright, conscious," he whispered, "Can I rescue the humans, but no Wayne Boomer, or not?"

"_Don't worry, bro, you don't need to choose between chocolate or vanilla ice cream when they come in one swirled cone!"_

"C—Chill!" Cadge exclaimed. "How-?"

"_Shh! MIB can hear ya, ya know? Okay, so we finally got the update from Kitt and I got good news and bad news. Good news is we got Zoe and Wild back. Back news is we had to hand Michael back over and he and the Genie's crew are on their way to your pad now to complete some sour table deals. Now, the other machines and I have a plan, but we need you to keep quiet until we show up, 'kay? Kay, stay cool in your cage, Cadge!"_

Before Cadge could add anything more, Chill disappeared from the audio waves, leaving Cadge to sit alone and fret over the future of his friends.

* * *

At the bottom of an abandoned rock quarry somewhere in the eastern States, hidden by the tree tops on the steep slopes above, was a relatively small base. Similar to FLAG's headquarters, it had a hangar to cover up the entrance to the underground base, but unlike FLAG, it actually had all sorts of military equipment in the hangar. The hangar sat on the end of a long, wide runway reserved for emergency jet landings. Other than the hangar, the runway, the surrounding chain link fence, and the long, winding road out of the ravine, there were no other structures. It was sun was setting, but the ravine blocked off so much light that it was practically night already.

Now, the tense guards stared when the Genie's caravan of Uprising soldiers and powered-up goons came down the road, but the gates were opened for the expected guests. The ten-some vehicles obediently parked in a neat line facing the hangar and let out their henchmen as Mr. Head strode out with a heavily armed military escort. The military personnel and henchmen glared at each other with their trigger fingers twitching, but they dared not let out the first shot. Both had vengeful bosses and did not seek to displease them.

Natasha and Jerald held a dazed Michael between them as the Genie cheerfully jumped out the driver door window of the yellow truck and strode right over to Mr. Head. A suitcase swung from his turquoise-gloved hand.

"Well, Mr. Head," the Genie said cheerfully, handing the case over to the Man in Black, "Here are the power ups you asked for, now if you will return the giant metal monster of destruction to me in one piece, we can be on our way and have this partnership over with."

Mr. Head had a soldier by him hold the case as he opened it up. Inside, there were twenty narrow, long glass vials of bloody red and icy blue substance. Comically enough, the Genie had printed out a tiny side effects warning label that was pasted on every vial. Mr. Head picked a red vial up, examined it, put it back, and shut the suitcase as he spoke.

"Hmm, yes, well, Mr. Genie, I'm afraid that Karr is going to remain in _my_ custody for a while yet."

"What?" the Genie asked shortly.

"Well, you see, Mr. Genie, it's just that I realized how much he is _really_ worth…which is too much to give to you. Thank you for your patriotic participation, though; the government will make sure to repay you in someway soon—"

The Genie slapped Mr. Head hard enough to reel. At the same time, Natasha high-kicked the soldier carrying the suitcase in the chin, turning his face skywards while Jerald snatched the suitcase back. Watching soldiers drew their guns, as did the Genie's men. The yellow truck rumbled and the other machines rumbled to life, prepared to fight for their leader.

"Karr, now," the Genie said shortly, "Or the next hit will take your head off your shoulders."

Mr. Head slowly turned his head back, ignoring the large red mark appearing on his cheek, and shook his head. He shot a glare at the Genie as his mind's gears ground up the problem he had presented himself with.

* * *

Karr yanked on one of his chains and was rewarded with feeling the bolts give a little more. The scientists were becoming more and more uneasy; they had tried everything they could to disable Karr, but he was just not going to give up.

"Sir, please," one man whimpered, "Some of us have families. Please, just allow us to take some measurements…"

To this man, Karr turned his head. Somehow, in spite of not having a face, he managed to pull off a devilish grin feeling.

"The only measurements you need to take for your family include their coffin dimensions," he said.

Still staring at the man, he came to "stand" at his full, twenty-some foot height while his claws wrapped around the chains binding him and yanked. The concrete holding the chains anchored to the floor crumbled like fudge as bolts and metal plates screeched and were completely ripped from their holdings. The lab members bolted about in a momentary panic while the leader, an aging woman, ran over and pushed in a red button on the wall.

The lightning poles around Karr sparked and flashed with energy that fell upon Karr like hounds on their kill. Karr arched his back as his golden visor flared with light and his scream melded with the pained roar of his engine. The lab members backed off while guards came in, summoned by the ruckus, and opened fire on Karr. The bullets bounced off of Karr before ricocheting off, carrying with them trails of energy. Karr shook and rattled but managed to fling himself forward and off the platform. In Karr's head, he was receiving countless error messages, most redundantly warning him that the electrical current was going to mess with his computer mind.

Once off the platform prison, Karr transformed into his car mode and sped from the room.

* * *

Cadges' optic sensors were turned to the ceiling through which muffled gun shots could be heard. A guard bolted into the room and the lab members looked to him curiously.

"What's going on?" a lab woman asked.

"The goods exchange went bad, _really_ bad," the guard panted, "And what' worse: Subject 2 escaped his holdings and running amok! How's this one?"

"Jesus! Was anyone hurt?"

"Is this one making any suspicious moves!" the guard demanded.

"N-No," the woman replied, drawing back, "It's been pretty quiet."

"None the less, blast it with a top-level electrical current," the guard instructed, "Then let's haul ass outa here before the shit _really_ hits the fan!"

The scientist flicked a few switched before following his friend out of the lab. The white and blue energy of the lightning poles became to flicker and crack at the air as it grew larger.

A white helicopter with thick blue-metal plates guarding its delicate areas rocked wildly to one side as it dodged bullets racing recklessly into the sky and away from the fire fight below. Had he a face, he would have flinched in sympathy when he heard the wet thumps and screams of the pained as they were mowed down by Karr's Uprising "soldiers".

"_Ooh, that's nasty, yo,"_ his radio muttered. _"Couldn't just give each other the wants like decent dealers? Okay, gotta make an entrance by breaking something. So, let's see, let's see, let's see… no lady's hearts, no bank accounts, no expensive cars—ah! That what-do-ya-call-it looks important!"_

Hovering over the "what-do-ya-call-it", two long thin nozzles, similar to those on a fire hose, peeked out of two compartments on the helicopter's underbelly. A substance like fire extinguisher foam gushed from the nozzles and covered the "what-do-ya-call it", but instantly froze into crystal-clear ice upon striking the metal and frosting up the ground around it. A ricocheting bullet from the near by fire fight was all that was needed to strike and shatter the generator.

Just as the energy seemed about to strike and reduc

* * *

e Cadge's computer mind and life into a molten pile of plastic and metal, the lights flickered and popped before going out. The lightening poles, computers and moving platform under Cadge's wheels all went dark and shut down. Confused and startled shouts came.

"What the hell-?" a guard outside muttered.

"Main power station's been knocked out," someone reported, "Back up generators will be up in a minute or two."

_Chill!_ Cadge thought, even as he moved.

His engine started up with an excited rev and tires squealed on the rubber platform as they moved a little too fast. But purchase was found, launching Cadge off the platform and striking the concrete floor below with his front bumper, momentarily lighting the completely-black laboratory with sparks. Warning messages came up informing of how low his energy reserves were as emergency red lights turned on, barely lighting up the base.

_Gotta move, find an energy source to sap or something,_ he thought.'

Tiny computer boards with in him turned and switched on and off while his computer mind directed his body, like a conductor with train rails on which the energy rode to keep his mind and engine running. The world became bathed in green light as his night vision activated and he instantly analyzed his environment, mapping out potential ways to leave his environment with minimal harm to the humans.

Before Cadge could move forward, though, the large garage door of the lab was pierced by something sharp and half of it was ripped aside, leaving an enormous, ragged hole that took half the door with it. The golden visor hovering high up in the shadows beyond was all that was needed to identify the culprit. Some brave human shot at his head from the side, but an apathetic arm-fling from Karr knocked the human out.

"Cadge, transform into Nasam and come help end this," Karr ordered.

"I barely have enough energy to move," Cadge replied lamely.

Karr flung turned around as he folded back down into his car form. A grappling hook jumped from the rear bumper and wrapped around Cadge's own, pulling the surprised forward as Karr took off through the base.

* * *

"Are we even going the right way?" Jake whined.

"Yes, for the fifth time, Jake, we are," Kitt replied somewhat shortly.

"Well, are you _sure_?" Zoe asked, looking out at the forest around them. "I mean, there's always a first for a mistake—"

An explosion rang through the air and Kitt slammed on his brakes, throwing Zoe, Wild, and Jake forward in their seats as they cried out in surprise. The explosion had rang out somewhere to their right and when they rolled their windows down, they could hear gun fire.

"Brace yourselves," Kitt cautioned, "Switching to off-road truck mode."

Kitt remained parking long enough to transform into a black truck before turning right off the road and into the woods, cutting right through them and to the hidden base.

* * *

Karr towed Cadge out of the base and into the battle just as the yellow truck exploded. Apparently, it had an allergy with small missiles. The Genie's henchmen and crooked government agents had each other pinned down behind cover, making the battle a game of peek-a-shoot while the Uprising army soldiers reluctantly acted as the henchmen's cover. Cadge heard an angry growl from Karr when he saw the condition of his soldiers.

"Concrete barriers and common vehicles are for cover," he snarled, "_Not_ my soldiers!"

He released Cadge and charged forward, making a bee line for the Genie. Cadge look around for any sort of power source he could tap into. His optic sensors spotted a row of army jeeps parked in a rear corner of the base's parking lot, currently forgotten from the fight. After a couple of tried, he managed to turn his exhausted engine on one more time and began to roll over to the jeeps at a crawling snail pace.

Behind him, Kitt burst onto the base and he and his passengers scanned the fight.

"Crud," Zoe muttered, "Out numbered, out gunned, and no cover."

"I believe Michael would like those odds," Kitt commented. "My scanners indicate that Michael is hidden behind the red jeep truck over there, right beside Karr, and Cadge seems to be making his way to those jeeps. Well, Madam Zoe, Wild, and Mister Jake, what do you recommend?"

Right on time, Kitt's radio clicked on and Chill spoke up, _"Hey, Kitt-Kat! Nice to see you made it to the party! Okay, looks like something's about to go down between Karr and li'le Cadge is gonna go to the garage in the sky unless someone runs over and gets him some cover fire. But don't worry; Skywalker is __not__ our last hope! Everyone; get yo' shiny butt-ends out here!"_

On Cadge's signal, Negado, Ruby, and Equinox came from the foliage, driving madly to put themselves between Cadge and any stray bullets. Chill flew down low and fast, spraying his freezing substance on the ground and causing still more confusion.

"Chill!" Wild exclaimed, "But what about our other team mates…?"

"_Ah, yeah, about that, eh heh,"_ Chill chuckled nervously. _"We lost 'em."_

"You _what_!" Zoe exclaimed.

"_H-Hey! I cleared the way, you guys gonna rescue Michael or what?"_

Kitt's doors opened up.

"Everyone out," he ordered.

"What? But Kitt—" Wild began to object.

"_Now_," Kitt growled.

Startled by the uncharacteristic force, the humans scrambled to obey. Kitt slammed his doors shut as he returned to his true form and sped out, heading straight for Karr.

* * *

"This is not how my soldiers are meant to be used," Karr growled, parking by the Genie.

The Genie, Andy, Natasha, Jerald, and Michael were hiding behind a red jeep and truck, returning fire when they could. Michael was still unconscious and in the arms of Natasha for safe-keeping. Natasha and Andy seemed surprised to see Karr, but Jerald and the Genie took it in stride.

"I had to improvise," the Genie calmly replied, "Where have you been?"

It wasn't so much as a question as a sort of insult hinting at how the "invincible" Karr had been caught. But his smugness disappeared when Karr suddenly picked him up.

"Reassessing my future," Karr replied. "And you know what? I don't need you. So go to hell, Genie."

Holding the Genie in one hand, he used the other to rip the hat and front of the Genie's coat off of him in a single tug. For a brief moment, the Genie's true face was revealed: An Arabian man with all color drained from his skin and hair and dark, dark red eyes. The next moment the ivory skin blistered, popped, bled, and steamed as he, literally, roasted in the sun. The fighting noticeably lulled as the Genie's scream of pain reared over even the gun shots, freezing many hearts and chilling blood. The scream would be imprinted into the listeners' memories as the worst sound they would ever hear.

Karr tossed the Genie's body aside like some used trash and plucked Michael from Natasha's arms. Natasha didn't seem to notice as she was too busy staring at the Genie's body. Karr transformed, carefully tucking Michael with in him, and sped out of the base as fast as he could, quickly leaving the fight behind. Kitt followed.

With the Genie's death, also came the battle's end.

An Uprising car revved out an excited message to its companions and bolted after Karr and a few others followed suit.

"Retreat!" Jerald shouted, jumping into the red jeep, "Follow me!"

"No, he'll only get you killed!" Natasha exclaimed, competitive even now, "Follow me!"

Confused, the henchmen boarded what Uprising vehicles that still operated. Some followed Jerald away from the base, others followed Natasha. Several base personnel gave pursuit.

Mr. Head growled and was prepared to give more orders when he found himself surrounded by Zoe, Jake, Wild, and Negado and behind him, Ruby and Equinox guarded Cadge as he sucked energy from an army jeep.

"Alright then," Negado said coolly, "Either we clear up some _problems_ with FLAG, or you get to see what _bug juice_ feels like.

* * *

Karr didn't dare stop or slow down, not with Kitt after him. He was in no condition for battle, but fortunately, the Uprising soldiers that had followed him were. While they were easily defeated by the superior Kitt, they had at least slowed him down enough for Karr to escape. Now, several hours later, with dented metal, partially-flat tires, and exhaustion dragging at every sensor of his person, Karr finally felt safe enough to park at an abandoned gas station late at night.

He sat for a moment with his engine off, catching his bearings and taking a much-needed break. The next task, though, could easily be the hardest one for him yet.

_If he doesn't comply this time,_ the car thought, acting against all hope, _If he doesn't comply with me __this__ time…_

He hated the idea, but sealed up his windows and locked his doors, just in case. His heater clicked on, ready to blast into the hundreds to boil a non-compliant human alive. Taking a deep, imagined breath in, he vibrated the seat Michael lay on.

"Michael," he said gently, "Michael, wake up."

The human stirred and groaned, grimacing as a hand came up to rub his head. Michael's eyes slowly opened up and blinked. He looked around, as if unsure where he was. Did he have a concussion.

"What…?" he muttered, "Where am I? Who's talking?"

Did Michael have a concussion?

"Michael, are you alright?" Karr asked slowly.

Michael jumped a little and his eyes widened. "Wh-what? Who's there?"

_It couldn't be…!_ Karr thought in amazement, _The Genie couldn't have—it's impossible! And with herbs…? No, maybe he hit his head…_

"Human," Karr ventured, "Do you know who I am?"

"N-No! What's going on here? Where are you?" Michael asked nervously.

Memory loss, but how far did it go? If it went too far, Michael would be more of a child than a man. But if it went just far enough—well, Karr didn't dare dream for fear of jinxing it.

"Human…" he said, "Do you know who you are?"

Michael sat for a good long moment, rubbing his head and grimacing in thought. Finally, he shook his head as an obvious expression of terror masked it.

"No," Michael answered, "I don't."

**The end. To be sequel-ized and finished whenever I get my lazy arse in gear. Or fix this up… Reviews, please, and mayhap that'll get the plot bunnies nibbling again!**


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